قصائد أجنبية

,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

,Make me a grave where’er you will ;In a lowly plain, or a lofty hill  ,Make it among earth’s humblest graves .But not in a land where men are slaves

نشر الشاعر الأمريكي ويليام ستافورد (William Stafford) كتابه (Traveling through the Dark) في عام 1962، وأثناء القيادة على طريق ضيق في الليل، يجد المتحدث في القصيدة غزالًا ميتًا.

عندما تشير إحدى القصائد شيئًا مثل البتلات كما هو الحال مع عمل لويل فإنها تستدعي صورة شائعة عادةً لإنشاء استعارة لشرح فكرة غير شائعة، يمكن لأي شخص أن يجلب إلى الذهن فكرة البتلات

تشتكشف هذه القصيدة الحب وفقدان الحب من خلال الارتباط مع استعارة الرمان، يربط لورنس اللون والشكل والمشكال الداخلي للرمان والقلوب، مستخدمًا الفاكهة كتمثيل للحب

,I went down to the river .I set down on the bank ,I tried to think but couldn't .So I jumped in and sank

I cast a backward look—how changed !The scenes of other days I walk, a wearied man, estranged .From youth’s delightful ways

,Since I haven’t danced among my fellow initiates following a looped processions from woods at the edge –of a village, Tata’s people would think me unfinished  a child who never sloughed off the childish estate

,If the year is meditating a suitable gift I should like it to be the attitude ,of my great- great- grandmother ,legendary devotee of the arts

,In the dark the river spins ,Laughs and ripples never ceasing ,Swells to gurgle under arches .Swishes past the hows of barges

I do not ask for youth, nor for delay in the rising of time’s irreversible river that takes the jewelled arc of the waterfall ,in which I glimpse, minute by glinting minute

All the way to the hospital .the lights were green as peppermints Trees of black iron broke into leaf ahead of me, as if

,This is the gay cliff of the nineteenth century ,Drenched in the hopeful ozone of a new day ,Erect and brown, like retired sea-captains .The houses gaze vigorously at the ocean

Pull over. Your car with its slow breathing. Somewhere outside Topeka ,it suddenly all matters again those tractors blooming rust

إيمي بلاكمور ولدت في عام 1958 وهي مصورة أمريكية، ولدت في تولسا أوكلاهوما، تم تضمينها في بينالي ويتني في عام 2006، وتم تضمين أعمالها في مجموعات متحف الفنون الجميلة في هيوستن

,For God’s sake hold your tongue, and let me love  ,Or chide my palsy, or my gout  ,My five gray hairs, or ruined fortune flout  ,With wealth your state, your mind with arts improve 

What I love about love is its diagnosis What I hate about love is its prognosis What I hate about love is its me me me What I love about love is its Eat-me/Drink-me

كارول آن دافي شاعرة رائعة تحب استخدام لغة بسيطة في قصائدها، نشأت في غلاسكو، في منطقة محرومة تسمى جوربالس، تخبر هذه القصيدة القراء عن السرقة حيث أنّ هناك فرصة قوية

.With thick strokes of ink the sky fills with rain .Pretending to run for cover but secretly praying for more rain .Over the echo of the water, I hear a voice saying my name .No one in the city moves under the quick sightless rain

,All that is gold does not glitter“ ;Not all those who wander are lost ,The old that is strong does not wither .Deep roots are not reached by the frost

,Be glad your nose is on your face ,not pasted on some other place ,for if it were where it is not .you might dislike your nose a lot

In dark fens of the Dismal Swamp ;The hunted Negro lay ,He saw the fire of the midnight camp And heard at times a horse’s tramp

.Once the world was perfect, and we were happy in that world .Then we took it for granted .Discontent began a small rumble in the earthly mind .Then Doubt pushed through with its spiked head

I am a kind word uttered and repeated ;By the voice of Nature I am a star fallen from the .Blue tent upon the green carpet

;The first, violent year I could not swim or font A dark and balanced fear .Hung on me like a coat

I did not live until this time ,Crowned my felicity ,When I could say without a crime .I am not thine, but thee

,Dear Basketball From the moment I started rolling my dad’s tube socks And shooting imaginary

Musidorus Will you unto one single sense ?Confine a starry Influence ,Or when you do the raies combine

In western lands beneath the Sun ,the flowers may rise in Spring ,the trees may bud, the waters run .the merry finches sing

,In broad daylight, and at noon Yesterday I saw the moon ,Sailing high, but faint and white .As a school-boy’s paper kite