قصائد أجنبية

This is a noon for beggars with whining Voices, a noon for men who come from hills ,With parrots in a cage and fortune-cards ,All stained with time

,Ay, gaze upon her rose-wreath’d hair ;And gaze upon her smile Seem as you drank the very air ;Her breath perfumed the while

ما هي قصيدة (Go and catch a falling star)؟   ,Go and catch a falling star     ,Get with child a mandrake root ,Tell me where all past years are     ,Or who cleft the devil’s foot ,Teach me to hear mermaids singing ,Or to keep off envy’s stinging             And find             What wind .Serves to […]

ظهرت القصيدة لأول مرة في (Spoon River Anthology) في عام 1915، وهو عبارة عن مجموعة من القصائد الشعرية التي تروي مرثيات لسكان نهر سبون

At the stoplight waiting for the light nine a.m. downtown San Francisco a bright yellow garbage truck with two garbagemen in red plastic blazers

I ne’er was struck before that hour ,With love so sudden and so sweet Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower .And stole my heart away complete

تركز هذه القصيدة على فكرة أن كل شخص وكل شيء تحت رحمة الزمن، وهي قوة تقول القصيدة إنها تؤدي إلى تدهور وانحطاط لا مفر منه، ويقول المتحدث إنه حتى أشرس الأسود والنمور

هل تساءلت يومًا كيف يطفو نسر في السماء عن طريق القيام بحركات دائرية؟ في هذه القصيدة تصور الشاعرة جوي هارجو كيف أنّ هذه الحركة الدائرية تشبه دورة الحياة.

Three weeks gone and the combatants gone returning over the nightmare ground we found the place again, and found .the soldier sprawling in the sun

:A thing of beauty is a joy for ever Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep

My spirit is too weak—mortality ,Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep And each imagined pinnacle and steep Of godlike hardship tells me I must die

:The Poetry of earth is never dead ,When all the birds are faint with the hot sun And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run ;From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead

Corona used to be just the name of a beer I’d have a few Twice a year On the odd occasion, I’d go out I wish I could go out

,How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth !Stol’n on his wing my three-and-twentieth year

I am the Lost Classmate being hunted down the superhighways .and byways of infinite cyber-space How long can I evade the class committee

?Tis true, ’tis day; what though it be ?O wilt thou therefore rise from me ?Why should we rise, because ’tis light ?Did we lie down, because ’twas night

,The gorilla lay on his back ,One hand cupped under his head .Like a man

,Once upon a time, son they used to laugh with their hearts :and laugh with their eyes ,but now they only laugh with their teeth

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

.The skin cracks like a pod .There never is enough water

,There's just no accounting for happiness or the way it turns up like a prodigal who comes back to the dust at your feet .having squandered a fortune far away

The whiskey stink of rot has settled in the garden, and a burst of fruit flies rises .when I touch the dying tomato plants

.For marriage, love and love alone’s the argument Sweet ceremony, then hand in hand we go .Taking to our changed, still dangerous days, our complement We think we know ourselves, but all we know

In sixth grade Mrs. Walker slapped the back of my head and made me stand in the corner for not knowing the difference

,Just by the wooden brig a bird flew up Frit by the cowboy as he scrambled down To reach the misty dewberry—let us stoop ,And seek its nest—the brook we need not dread

,He could not die when trees were green  .For he loved the time too well  ,His little hands, when flowers were seen  ,Were held for the bluebell 

:All around, shards of a lost tradition From the Rough Field I went to school In the Glen of the Hazels. Close by ;Was the bishopric of the Golden Stone

The present reigned supreme Like the shallow floods over the gutters ,Over the raw paths where we had been .The house with the shutters

,The night we fled the country, Papi ,you told me we were going to the beach ,hurried me to get dressed along with the others while posted at a window, you looked out

,I am lulled by the imprint of ancient tales .Written in blood red, vermilion hue ,Man and tattered dreadlocks us ,As dragonflies we drink our thirst