قصائد أجنبية

In the steamer is the trout ,seasoned with slivers of ginger .two sprigs of green onion, and sesame oil ,We shall eat it with rice for lunch

.I, too, sing America .I am the darker brother They send me to eat in the kitchen ,When company comes

Elephants walking Along the trails Are holding hands .By holding tails

,King Francis was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport ;And one day as his lions fought, sat looking on the court ,The nobles filled the benches, and the ladies in their pride :And ‘mongst them sat the Count de Lorge, with one for whom he sighed

Constancy is an evolution of one’s living quarters into a thought: a continuation of a parallelogram or a rectangle —by means—as Clausewitz would have put it .of the voice and, ultimately, the gray matter

,Die, wild country, like the eaglehawk ,dangerous till the last breath's gone clawing and striking. Die .cursing your captor through a raging eye

,I’m standing here inside my skin which will do for a Human Remains Pouch .for the moment. Look down there (up here) Quickly. Slowly. This is my front room

!Farewell we call to hearth and hall ,Though wind may blow and rain may fall We must away ere break of day .Far over wood and mountain tall

The clothes-line is a Rosary ;Of household help and care Each little saint the Mother loves .Is represented there

To pull the metal splinter from my palm .my father recited a story in a low voice .I watched his lovely face and not the blade Before the story ended, he’d removed

The bus sweeps past the swinging trees And the road unwinds long and cold The chassis creaks with the load .And jolts to a halt by the road

I am hoping to hang your head on my wall —in shame

I don't know politics but I know the names Of those in power, and can repeat them like .Days of week, or names of months, beginning with Nehru ,I amIndian, very brown, born inMalabar

Constantly risking absurdity and death whenever he performs above the heads

He stalks in his vivid stripes ,The few steps of his cage ,On pads of velvet quiet .In his quiet rage

,The squall sweeps gray-winged across the obliterated hills ;And the startled lake seems to run before it ,From the wood comes a clamor of leaves ,Tugging at the twigs

,GRAND-DAD , they say you’re old and frail :Your stiffened legs begin to fail ,Your staff, no more my pony now ,Supports your body bending low

,Boll-weevil’s coming, and the winter’s cold ,Made cotton-stalks look rusty, seasons old ,And cotton, scarce as any southern snow ,Was vanishing; the branch, so pinched and slow

,Hair–braided chestnut ,coiled like a lyncher’s rope ,Eye–fagots

The heat of autumn .is different from the heat of summer .One ripens apples, the other turns them to cider ,One is a dock you walk out on

,Twinkle, twinkle, little star !How I wonder what you are ,Up above the world so high .Like a diamond in the sky

هي قصيدة بقلم الشاعر جيسي بيرنت، القصيدة عبارة عن إعلان عن حب الأب والأطوال التي سيقطعها لحماية ابنته.   ملخص قصيدة To the Boys Who May One Day Date My Daughter   في السطور الأولى من هذه القصيدة يخاطب المتحدث أي فتى قد يرغب في المستقبل في مواعدة ابنته، لديه عدد من القواعد والنصائح العامة […]

,Between the dark and the daylight ,When the night is beginning to lower ,Comes a pause in the day’s occupations .That is known as the Children’s Hour

,A gentle boy, with soft and silken locks ,A dreamy boy, with brown and tender eyes ,A castle-builder, with his wooden blocks .And towers that touch imaginary skies 

Alaska's rape dismemberment disassembled piece by piece and shipped to the lower

Listen, my children, and you shall hear  ,Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere  ;On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five  Hardly a man is now alive 

The child is not dead the child raises his fists against his mother who screams Africa screams the smell of freedom and heather in the locations of the heart under siege

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

هي قصيدة بقلم الشاعر جيمس كيركوب، القصيدة تعيد حقيقة أنّ جميع الرجال متماثلون، على الرغم من الاختلافات التي صنعها الإنسان في الطائفة والدين والجنسية واللغة.

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