英文诗歌朗诵稿
英文诗歌由于用词典雅、句法精炼、形式别致以及意象丰富等等的缘故,英文诗歌的学习很是难的。下面就是小编给大家整理的英文诗歌朗诵稿，希望大家喜欢。
英文诗歌朗诵稿：Apples
Gillian Clarke
They fill with heat, dewfall, a night of rain.
In a week they have reddened, the seed gone black
in each star-heart. Soft thud of fruit
in the deepening heat of the day.
Out of the delicate petals of secret skin
and that irreversible moment when the fruit set,
such a hard harvest, so cold and sharp on the tongue.
They look up from the grass, too many to save.
A lapful of windfalls with worms in their hearts,
under my thumb the pulse of original sin,
flesh going brown as the skin curls over my knife.
I drown them in water and wine, pushing them under,
then breathe apples simmering in sugar and spice,
fermenting under the tree in sacs of juice
so swollen they'd burst under a wasp's foot.
英文诗歌朗诵稿：Baby-sitting
Gillian Clarke
I am sitting in a strange room listening
For the wrong baby. I don't love
This baby. She is sleeping a snuffly
Roseate, bubbling sleep; she is fair;
She is a perfectlyacceptable child.
I am afraid of her. If she wakes
She will hate me. She will shout
Her hot midnight rage, her nose
Will stream disgustingly and the perfume
Of her breath will fail to enchant me.
To her I will represent absolute
Abandonment. For her it will be worse
Than for the lover cold in lonely
Sheets; worse than for the woman who waits
A moment to collect her dignity
Beside the bleached bone in the terminal ward.
As she rises sobbing from the monstrous land
Stretching for milk-familiar comforting,
She will find me and between us two
It will not come. It will not come.
英文诗歌朗诵稿：Scrapbook
Kim Addonizio
This is me, depressed out of my mind,
frailing the banjo, spilling red wine
on the white
king-sized
luckily-hotel's-and-not-my-
goose down comforter, this is me
walking and waxing nostalgic through the girlish shadows
of tall palm trees, the déjà vus
flying through the scene
suddenly, like those three
unnameable and therefore beautiful white birds.
This is me as a slowly-tearing-itself-apart cloud
and marveling
at a fire palely and flamily
emerging from a bowl, wavering
up through stones of cobalt glass. The air
wavers back. This is me in love
with the beauty of blue glass in flames, this is me on drugs
prescribed by my doctor
as I try once more
to sneak into night's closely guarded city,
my hollow horse ready
to wreak my demons and Blue Morphos
on the citizens of my sleep. I am most
myself when flashing rapidly
my iridescent wings, drinking
the juice of fallen fruit. Then again
look for me under your bed
where the ugly premodern vampires
still hide. The undead and I are lying
in wait. We are very interested in you
though this is still me. We are unstable and true.
We believe in the one-ton rose
and the displaced toilet equally. Our blues
assume you understand
not much, and try to be alive, just as we do,
and that it may be helpful to hold the hand
of someone as lost as you.
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