قصائد أجنبية

:O gift of God! O perfect day ;Whereon shall no man work, but play ,Whereon it is enough for me !Not to be doing, but to be

,Indeed indeed, I cannot tell ,Though I ponder on it well Which were easier to state All my love or all my hate

,Now, rallying once if ne’er again  ,With flag at half-mast flown  A people in dire need and strain  .Mans Tyra’s bastion 

,Along Ancona’s hills the shimmering heat A tropic tide of air with ebb and flow Bathes all the fields of wheat until they glow Like flashing seas of green, which toss and beat Around the vines. The poppies lithe and fleet

When Americans say a man takes liberties, they mean he's gone too far. In Philadelphia today I saw a kid on a leash look mom-ward

.You are so poor that all you have is a country Whenever you open your mouth you talk about the country .to which you can no longer return

We need quarters like King Tut needed a boat. A slave could row him to heaven from his crypt in Egypt full of loot.

Don't kill yourself today because your Netflix free trial still has a week left .Don't kill yourself today because no one else will finish off the chicken in the fridge Don't kill yourself today because I know for a fact Starbucks is introducing a new frappachino sometime next month

هي قصيدة بقلم الشاعرة تانيجوتشي بوسون، وهي هايكو جميلة، تصف عثة القمر نائمة على جرس المعبد.

هي قصيدة بقلم الشاعر ماساوكا شيكي، وهي قصيدة مدروسة، يصف الآثار السلبية والمظلمة لقتل العنكبوت.

هي قصيدة بقلم الشاعر ماتسوو باشو، هي قصيدة هايكو تتعامل مع بركة قديمة والصوت الذي يصدره الضفدع الذي يقفز فيها.

,You made me cry in cruel stations So I missed many trains. You married others In plausible buildings. The subsequent son Became my boss. You promised me nothing

;You cannot do this to them, these are my people .I am not speaking of poetry, I am not speaking of art .you cannot do this to them, these are my people .you cannot hack away the horizon in front of their eyes

,There once was a tiger, terrible and tough .who said “I don’t think tigers are stylish enough .They put on only orange and stripes of fierce black .Fine and fancy fashion is what they mostly lack

.They eat beans mostly, this old yellow pair .Dinner is a casual affair ,Plain chipware on a plain and creaking wood .Tin flatware

Blackness ,is a title ,is a preoccupation is a commitment Blacks —are to comprehend and in which you are .to perceive your Glory

its raining womens voices as if they were dead even in memory its raining you too marvelous encounters of my life oh droplets

At last you're tired of this elderly world Shepherdess O Eiffel Tower this morning the bridges are bleating You're fed up living with antiquity

It took a hurricane, to bring her closer To the landscape ,Half the night she lay awake ,The howling ship of the wind

هي قصيدة بقلم الشاعرة جيليان كلارك، وهي قصيدة قصيرة عن الرسائل المخفية لعلاقة أصبحت باردة وليس لها مستقبل.

,This darksome burn, horseback brown ,His rollrock highroad roaring down In coop and in comb the fleece of his foam .Flutes and low to the lake falls home

;As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame  As tumbled over rim in roundy wells  Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s  ;Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name 

,I want to die while you love me ,While yet you hold me fair While laughter lies upon my lips .And lights are in my hair

هي قصيدة بقلم الشاعر جورج ماكبثن وهي قصيدة قصيرة تستخدم صورة خوذة لتصوير علاقة المتحدث بوالده.

,Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright ;The bridal of the earth and sky ,The dew shall weep thy fall to-night .For thou must die

,Around and beneath, the dull grey mist and the sullen roar of the sea ;Scant footing-place on the sheer cliffs face—with death for a penalty ,But afar and above there is rest and love, there is hope for brain and hand .The valleys fair and the crystal air and the peaks of Morning Land 

All essences of sweetness from the white Warm day go up in vapor, when the dark ,Comes down. Ascends the tune of meadow-lark Ascends the noon-time smell of grass, when night

هي قصيدة بقلم الشاعر غاجنان مادهاف مكتيبود، وهي قصيدة تعليمية توضح لنا كيف أن الجانب السلبي بداخلنا لا يدمر إيجابية العقل فحسب، بل يضر أيضًا بصلاح البشرية جمعاء.

I don’t want them to turn .my little girl into a swallow She would fly far away into the sky ,and never fly again to my straw bed

?Am I to become profligate as if I were a blonde? Or religious as if I were French Each time my heart is broken it makes me feel more adventurous (and how the same names keep recurring on .that interminable list!), but one of these days there’ll be nothing left with which to venture forth