قصائد أجنبية

The fish are dreadful. They are brought up the mountain in the dawn most days, beautiful ,and alien and cold from night under the sea .the grand rooms fading from their flat eyes

هي قصيدة كتبتها إنغريد دي كوك تعبر عن الفقر المادي في شكل منزل سيء البناء، على الرغم من أنّ هذه الفكرة قد تبدو أساسية فإنّ الشاعرة لا تناقش فقط السلامة الهيكلية أو عدم وجودها للمنزل المعني.

,Outside the door ,lurking in the shadows .is a terrorist

Steaming chip-shop and the red-hot chips And me shaking salt, pepper and vinegar .All over them like I’m some kind of weather

,Pile on the Black Man’s Burden ;Tis nearest at your door‘ Why heed long bleeding Cuba ?Or dark Hawaii’s shore

In the midnight heavens burning ,Thro’ ethereal deeps afar Thus I mus’d, when o’er the vision ;Crept a red delirious change ,Hope dissolving to derision ;Beauty to distortion strange ,Hymnic chords in weird collision

He was twelve years old And I do not know his name ,The mercenaries took him and his father ,Whose name I do not know

Do you remember that wild stretch of land with the lone tree guarding the point ?from the sharp-tongued sea

When George’s Grandmamma was told ,That George had been as good as gold She promised in the afternoon .To buy him an Immense BALLOON

هي قصيدة بقلم الشاعر هيلير بيلوك، وهي قصيدة قصيرة مسلية تصف إطلاق الرصاص البلاتيني على فرس النهر.

Listless he eyes the palisades ;And sentries in the glare —Tis barren as a pelican-beach’ .But his world is ended there

;The day is cold, and dark, and dreary ;It rains, and the wind is never weary ,The vine still clings to the mouldering wall ,But at every gust the dead leaves fall

,In Ocean’s wide domains ,Half buried in the sands ,Lie skeletons in chains .With shackled feet and hands

,The shades of night were falling fast  As through an Alpine village passed  ,A youth, who bore, ‘mid snow and ice  ,A banner with the strange device 

!Come to me, O ye children ,For I hear you at your play And the questions that perplexed me .Have vanished quite away

‘,A soldier of the Union mustered out’ Is the inscription on an unknown grave

!They are all gone into the world of light ;And I alone sit ling’ring here ,Their very memory is fair and bright .And my sad thoughts doth clear

Time Is ,Too Slow for those who Wait ,Too Swift for those who Fear

One summer afternoon when nothing much was happening, they were standing around a tractor beside the barn while a horse in the field poked his head between two strands

My life has been the poem I would have writ .But I could not both live and utter it

In summer dusk the valley lies  ;With far-flung shadow veil  A cloud-sea laps the precipice  :Before the evening gale 

,O patient creature with a peasant face ,Burnt by the summer sun, begrimed with stains !And standing humbly in the dingy lanes ,There seems a mystery in thy work and place

هي قصيدة بقلم الشاعرة بيني هارتر، هي هايكو قصيرة لا تُنسى حول وعاء مكسور، تستخدم القصيدة ثلاثة أسطر قصيرة جدًا لوصف قطعها المتأرجحة.

.But in the crowding darkness not a word did they say .Though the pretty-coated birds had piped so lightly all the day

,I love you for your brownness ,And the rounded darkness of your breast I love you for the breaking sadness in your voice .And shadows where your wayward eyelids rest

,We are things of dry hours and the involuntary plan Grayed in, and gray. “Dream” makes a giddy sound, not strong ”.Like “rent,” “feeding a wife,” “satisfying a man

,Now we must get up quickly .dress ourselves, and run away Because it surrounds us, because ,they are coming with wolves on leashes because I stood just now at the window

Can you spin ,straw into gold straw into gold, a boast becomes a lie, a lie ,becomes a request ,becomes a promise becomes an agony

Sticks and sleeping bags and ants Dirty hands and grass-stained pants Gathering wood and piling up leaves

هي قصيدة بقلم الشاعرة جيليان كلارك، وهي قصيدة عن تعلم ابنها العزف على البيانو، حيث تساعد الصور حول المنزل على وصف إبداع الموسيقى.