قصائد أجنبية

No coward soul is mine  No trembler in the world’s storm-troubled sphere  I see Heaven’s glories shine  And Faith shines equal arming me from Fear 

,Come, walk with me There’s only thee –To bless my spirit now  We used to love on winter nights

These islands not picture postcards for unravelling tourist you know these islands real

Morning and island man wakes up to the sound of blue surf in his head the steady breaking and wombing

.THE POOL PLAYERS                    .SEVEN AT THE GOLDEN SHOVEL

.I should have visited more often .I should have taken the sour pudding they offered .I should have danced that lousy beggar shuffle .I should have painted their rooms in a brighter color

,One morn before me were three figures seen ;With bowèd necks, and joinèd hands, side-faced ,And one behind the other stepp’d serene ;In placid sandals, and in white robes graced

,There was a naughty boy ,A naughty boy was he ,He would not stop at home -He could not quiet be

.Moist, bright, and green, the landscape laughs around ,Full swell the woods; their every music wakes Mix’d in wild concert, with the warbling brooks ,Increased, the distant bleatings of the hills

for my father, 1922-1944 Your face did not rot ,like the others--the co-pilot for example, I saw him

,Crossing the street I saw the parents and the child At their window, gleaming like fruit .With evening’s mild gold leaf

Having used every subterfuge ,To shake you, lies, fatigue, or even that of passion .Now I see no way but a clean break .I add that I am willing to bear the guilt

هي قصيدة بقلم الشاعر جيمس لاسدون، تصف القصيدة إيمان أحد المتحدثين بالخير العام للعالم والطريقة التي يعتقد أنّ المتشائم يجب أن يعيشها.

!Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough ,It isn't fit for humans now .There isn't grass to graze a cow !Swarm over, Death

,Miss J.Hunter Dunn, Miss J.Hunter Dunn ,Furnish'd and burnish'd by Aldershot sun ,What strenuous singles we played after tea !We in the tournament - you against me

,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

Endless crow noises A skull in the holy sands .tilts its empty country towards hunger

?What's that fluttering in the breeze It's just a piece of cloth .that brings a nation to its knees

,About my husband, the clown ?what could I say

Searching for pillowcases trimmed with lace that my mother-in-law once made, I open the chest of drawers upstairs to find that mice

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

When stretch’d on one’s bed ,With a fierce-throbbing head ,Which preculdes alike thought or repose How little one cares

,My heart be brave, and do not falter so .Nor utter more that deep, despairing wail ,Thy way is very dark and drear I know ;But do not let thy strength and courage fail

,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

هي قصيدة بقلم الشاعرة جيل ألكسندر إسبوم، وهي قصيدة قصيرة تملي تعقيدات التعامل مع المشاعر القلبية، تصف قلب الإنسان بأنه غرفة بها أربع حجرات وآلاف الأبواب.

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 […]

In summer when the Christmas beetles ,filled each day with thin brass shrilling ,heat would wake you, lapping at the sheet and drive you up and out into the glare

—I cannot live with You  —It would be Life —And Life is over there  Behind the Shelf

How happy is the little Stone ,That rambles in the Road alone And doesn’t care about Careers —And Exigencies never fears

,He ate and drank the precious words ;His spirit grew robust ,He knew no more that he was poor .Nor that his frame was dust