最新詩(shī)歌欣賞：Bedtime Story
詩(shī)歌欣賞：Bedtime Story
by Wanda Coleman
bed calls． i sit in the dark in the living room
trying to ignore them
in the morning， especially Sunday mornings
it will not let me up． you must sleep
longer， it says
facing south
the bed makes me lay heavenward on my back
while i prefer a westerly fetal position
facing the wall
the bed sucks me sideways into it when i
sit down on it to put on my shoes． this
persistence on its part forces me to dress in
the bathroom where things are less subversive
the bed lumps up in anger springs popping out to
scratch my dusky thighs
my little office sits in the alcove adjacent to
the bed． it makes strange little sighs
which distract me from my work
sadistically i pull back the covers
put my typewriter on the sheet and turn it on
the bed complains that i'm difficult duty
its slats are collapsing． it bitches when i
blanket it with books and papers． it tells me
it's made for blood and bone
lately spiders ants and roaches
have invaded it searching for food
詩(shī)歌欣賞：A Poison Tree
I was angry with my friend：
I told my wrath， my wrath did end．
I was angry with my foe：
I told it not， my wrath did grow．
And I water'd it in fears，
Night and morning with my tears；
And I sunnèd it with smiles，
And with soft deceitful wiles．
And it grew both day and night，
Till it bore an apple bright；
And my foe beheld it shine，
And he knew that it was mine，
And into my garden stole
When the night had veil'd the pole：
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretch'd beneath the tree．
詩(shī)歌欣賞：Baudelaire's Ablutions
by Roger Fanning
Baudelaire， dead broke， nonetheless allowed himself
two hours for his morning ablutions．
（Warm water can be a 一 too．）
His razor scraping whiskers cleanly off
sounded like a file rassrasping
against prison bars． Never did this man
gulp a cup of coffee， bolt out the door
with a blob of shaving cream on one ear，
and go to a job． He composed himself．
Dead broke， he explored （in prose） six waterdrops
that quake in a corner of Delacroix's painting
Dante and Virgil！ Meanwhile， through his window
intruded softly the spiel of a fishmonger
as well as the stench． Many， many vendors still
singsong their wares， as a sort of wishwash drizzle
inducing human animals to mope， to yawn．
We all get bored： between mainstream culture （buy things）
and nature （in this case， rain）， people tend to snooze．
Poetry jolts awake the lucky few． I praise
the mirror－gazing mighty poet Baudelaire，
my hero， a fop full of compulsions，
a perfectionist to whom a single
tweezered nosehair brought tears of joy．
詩(shī)歌欣賞：Cement Guitar
All morning I've remembered St．
Ignacio's bruise，
jaundiced seagulls over Quonset，
November
and the gross white sky．
Days so long
you walk home fifteen miles from the restaurant．
Same waitress every day of your life
and she never remembers your allergies．
Nothing on the map but scone crumbs
and a drop of tea．
Just manifold food and a dead request
to bury the last of your seven receipts．
Mother of foster－wit， father of straw，
I can see how silence takes the place of those
who cut their thoughts in stone before they need them．
Stone is the past， and the past is a form of flattery．
Last winter， groups of children sent letters
in sadness for the late Christmas 一．
Addressed to those who managed the fishery，
who named the docks and decided the colors of unfinished boats，
the only way to read them was alive．
To think out loud about those children's names
was to forget what you meant by dying．
詩(shī)歌欣賞：Alone Looking at the Mountain
Alone Looking at the Mountain
All the birds have flown up and gone；
A lonely cloud floats leisurely by．
We never tire of looking at each other
Only the mountain and I．
詩(shī)歌欣賞：安娜貝爾·李
It was many and many a year ago，
In a kingdom by the sea，
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE；
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me．
She was a child and I was a child，
In this kingdom by the sea；
But we loved with a love that was more than love
I and my Annabel Lee；
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me．
And this was the reason that， long ago，
In this kingdom by the sea，
A wind blew out of a cloud by night chilling my Annabel Lee；
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me，
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kindom by the sea．
The angels ，not half so happy in the heaven，
Went evnying her and me
Yes！That was the reason（as all men know， in this kingdom by the sea）
That the wind came out of the cloud，
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee．
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we
Of many far wiser than we
And neither the angels in heaven above，
Nor the demons down under the sea，
Can ever dissever my soulfrom the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee．
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annalbel Lee；
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee；
And so，all the night－tide ， I lie down by the side
Of my darling ， my darling ， my life and my bride，
In the sepulchre there by the sea，
In her tomb by the side of the sea．
很久很久以前，
在一個(gè)濱海的國(guó)度里，
住著一位少女你或許認(rèn)得，
她的芳名叫安娜貝爾．李；
這少女活著沒(méi)有別的愿望，
只為和我倆情相許。
那會(huì)兒我還是個(gè)孩子，她也未脫稚氣，
在這個(gè)濱海的國(guó)度里；
可我們的愛(ài)超越一切，無(wú)人能及——
我和我的安娜貝爾．李；
我們愛(ài)得那樣深，連天上的六翼天使
也把我和她妒嫉。
這就是那不幸的根源，很久以前
在這個(gè)濱海的國(guó)度里，
夜里一陣寒風(fēng)從白云端吹起，凍僵了
我的安娜貝爾．李；
于是她那些高貴的親戚來(lái)到凡間
把她從我的'身邊奪去，
將她關(guān)進(jìn)一座墳?zāi)?/p>
在這個(gè)濱海的國(guó)度里。
這些天使們?cè)谔焐希患拔覀円话肟旎睿?/p>
于是他們把我和她妒嫉——
對(duì)——就是這個(gè)緣故（誰(shuí)不曉得呢，在這個(gè)濱海的國(guó)度里）
云端刮起了寒風(fēng)，
凍僵并帶走了我的安娜貝爾．李。
可我們的愛(ài)情遠(yuǎn)遠(yuǎn)地勝利
那些年紀(jì)長(zhǎng)于我們的人——
那些智慧勝于我們的人——
無(wú)論是天上的天使，
還是海底的惡魔，
都不能將我們的靈魂分離，
我和我美麗的安娜貝爾．李。
因?yàn)樵铝恋拿恳唤z清輝都勾起我的回憶
夢(mèng)里那美麗的安娜貝爾．李
群星的每一次升空都令我覺(jué)得秋波在閃動(dòng)
那是我美麗的安娜貝爾．李
就這樣，伴著潮水，我整夜躺在她身旁
我親愛(ài)的——我親愛(ài)的——我的生命，我的新娘，
在海邊那座墳塋里，
在大海邊她的墓穴里。
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