英文诗词唯美的诗

优美的英文诗如下：

When we two parted当初我们两分别时。

In silence and tears,只有沉默和眼泪。

half broken-hearted心儿几乎要破碎。

to sever for years,得分隔多少年岁。

pale grew thy cheek and cold,你的脸苍白又冰冷。

colder thy kiss;你的吻更寒意逼人。

truly that hour foretold那一刻正预示了。

sorrow to this!我今日的悲伤。

the dew of the morning 那天冰冷的朝露。

sunk chill on my brow-滴在我的额头。

it felt like the warning它似乎警示了。

of what I feel now.我此刻的痛楚。

thy vows are all broken,你背弃了所有的誓言。

and light is thy fame:名声也轻飘似云。

I hear thy name spoken,听到别人提到你的名字。

and share in its shame.我也感到无地自容。

英文诗特点：

1、本质上：属于诗，也属于散文﹐有诗的情绪和幻想﹐有散文的外观和内涵，给读者美和想象。

2、内容上：保留了有诗意的散文性细节。

3、形式上：有散文的外观﹐不像诗歌那样分行和押韵﹐但不乏内在的音韵美和节奏感。

The furthest distance in the world Tagore·Rabindranath The furthest distance in the world Is not between life and death But when i stand in front of you Yet you don't know that I love you The furthest distance in the world Is not when i stand in front of you Yet you can't see my love But when undoubtedly knowing the love from both Yet cannot be together The furthest distance in the world Is not being apart while being in love But when plainly can not resist the yearning Yet pretending you have never been in my heart The furthest distance in the world Is not when painly cannot resist the yearning Yet pretending you have never been in my heart But using one's indifferent heart To dig an uncrossable river for the one who loves you 世界上最遥远的距离 罗宾德拉纳特·泰戈尔 世界上最遥远的距离，不是生与死 而是我就站在你的面前，你却不知道我爱你 世界上最遥远的距离，不是我站在你面前，你却不知道我爱你 而是明明知道彼此相爱，却不能在一起 世界上最遥远的距离，不是明明知道彼此相爱，却不能在一起 而是明明无法抵挡这股思念，却还得故意装作丝毫没有把你放在心里 世界上最遥远的距离，不是明明无法抵挡这股思念，却还要故意装作丝毫没有把你放在心里而是用自己冷漠的心对爱你的人掘了一条无法跨越的沟渠英语小诗 英文小诗（经典优美26首.英汉对照） 为了方便朋友们欣赏查阅，经大量搜集比较，精编了26首十分经典优美的英语小诗 英文小诗*经典英文小诗To see a world in a grain of sand, 一粒沙里阅世界And a heaven in a wild flower, 一朵花中觅天堂Hold infinity in the palm of your hand, 无穷尽在掌心中And eternity in an hour. 永恒不过一刻钟*小诗If you were a teardrop;In my eye, For fear of losing you,I would never cry. And if the golden sun,Should cease to shine its light, Just one smile from you,Would make my whole world bright.如果你是我眼里的一滴泪，为了不失去你，我将永不哭泣；如果金色的阳光停止了它耀眼的光芒，你的一个微笑，将照亮我的整个世界。Never give up, Never lose hope. Always have faith, It allows you to cope. Trying times will pass, As they always do. Just have patience, Your dreams will come true. So put on a smile, You'll live through your pain. Know it will pass, And strength you will gain 永不放弃 ， 永不心灰意冷 。 永存信念 ， 它会使你应付自如 。 难捱的时光终将过去 ， 一如既往 。 只要有耐心 ， 梦想就会成真 。 露出微笑 ， 你会走出痛苦 。 相信苦难定会过去 ， 你将重获力量 。* 英语小诗Hold fast to dreams 紧紧抓住梦想， For if dreams die 梦想若是消亡Life is a broken-winged bird 生命就象鸟儿折了翅膀 That can never fly. 再也不能飞翔 Hold fast to dreams 紧紧抓住梦想，For when dreams go 梦想若是消丧Life is a barren field 生命就象贫瘠的荒野，Frozen only with snow 雪覆冰封，万物不再生长*超经典2英文爱情小诗 If I could save time in a bottlethe first thing that I'd like to dois to save every day until eternity passes awayjust to spend them with you*我和你等于永恒 If I could save time in a bottlethe first thing that I'd like to dois to save every day until eternity passes awayjust to spend them with youIf I could make days last foreverif words could make wishes come trueI'd save every day like a treasure and thenagain I would spend them with you如果我能把时间存入一个瓶子，我要作的第一件事就是，把每一天都存下来直到永恒，再和你一起慢慢度过。如果我能把时间化作永恒，如果我的愿望能一一成真，我会把每天都像宝贝一样存起来，再和你一起慢慢度过。*谢谢你会爱上我 Thank you for comforting me when I'm sadLoving me when I'm madPicking me up when I'm downThank you for being my friend and being aroundTeaching me the meaning of loveEncouraging me when I need a shoveBut most of all thank you forLoving me for who I am感谢你在我伤心时安慰我，当我生气时你护著我，当我沮丧时你拉拔我。感谢你作我的朋友并且在我身旁，教导我爱的意义是什么，当我需要动力时你鼓励我。但我最想感谢你的是，爱上像我这样的一个人。

诗歌本身包含的丰富社会生活内容和艺术内涵,诗歌语言的独特的美与和谐都使它们具有无穷的魅力,所以凡学习英语文学的人都会情不自禁要对英语诗歌倾注特别的热情和关注。我精心收集了关于优美的英文诗词，供大家欣赏学习!

Mortal Limit

by Robert Penn Warren

I saw the hawk ride updraft in the sunset over Wyoming.

It rose from coniferous darkness， past gray jags

Of mercilessness， past whiteness， into the gloaming

Of dream-spectral light above the lazy purity of snow-snags.

There——west——were the Tetons. Snow-peaks would soon be

In dark profile to break constellations. Beyond what height

Hangs now the black speck? Beyond what range will gold eyes see

New ranges rise to mark a last scrawl of light?

Or， having tasted that atmosphere's thinness， does it

Hang motionless in dying vision before

It knows it will accept the mortal limit，

And swing into the great circular downwardness that will restore

The breath of earth? Of rock? Of rot? Of other such

Items， and the darkness of whatever dream we clutch?

Morning in the Burned House

by Margaret Atwood

In the burned house I am eating breakfast.

You understand： there is no house， there is no breakfast，

yet here I am.

The spoon which was melted scrapes against

the bowl which was melted also.

No one else is around.

Where have they gone to， brother and sister，

mother and father? Off along the shore，

perhaps. Their clothes are still on the hangers，

their dishes piled beside the sink，

which is beside the woodstove

with its grate and sooty kettle，

every detail clear，

tin cup and rippled mirror.

The day is bright and songless，

the lake is blue， the forest watchful.

In the east a bank of cloud

rises up silently like dark bread.

I can see the swirls in the oilcloth，

I can see the flaws in the glass，

those flares where the sun hits them.

I can't see my own arms and legs

or know if this is a trap or blessing，

finding myself back here， where everything

in this house has long been over，

kettle and mirror， spoon and bowl，

including my own body，

including the body I had then，

including the body I have now

as I sit at this morning table， alone and happy，

bare child's feet on the scorched floorboards

(I can almost see)

in my burning clothes， the thin green shorts

and grubby yellow T-shirt

holding my cindery， non-existent，

radiant flesh. Incandescent.

Mosquito

by Myronn Hardy

She visits me when the lights are out，

when the sun is loving another part of the world.

She passes through the net I sleep under like

a cloud its holes are easily navigable.

Her buzzing tells me that she doesn't want my legs arms cheeks or chest.

No.

She craves adventure wanting to travel through

the dark canal the spiraling cave where earthquakes are wind.

Her prize is in sight the gelatinous mass controlling this machine.

How beautiful she thinks it is her needle mouth filling with water.

Her children will know physics geometry will understand

English Spanish perhaps Portuguese.

They will be haunted their whole lives by trees guns and a boom that won't cease.

She cries before drinking the fluid is salty-sweet.

Oh if my mother had done this for me I would have lived

Mostly Mick Jagger

by Catie Rosemurgy

1

Thank god he stuck his tongue out.

When I was twelve I was in danger

of taking my body seriously.

I thought the ache in my nipple was priceless.

I thought I should stay very still

and compare it to a button，

a china saucer，

a flash in a car side-mirror，

so I could name the ache either big or little，

then keep it forever. He blew no one a kiss，

then turned into a maw.

After I saw him， when a wish moved in my pants.

I nurtured it. I stalked around my room

kicking my feet up just like him， making

a big deal of my lips. I was my own big boy.

I wouldn't admit it then，

but be definitely cocks his hip

as if he is his own little girl.

2

People ask me——I make up interviews

while I brush my teeth——"So， what do you remember best

about your childhood?" I say

mostly the drive toward Chicago.

Feeling as if I'm being slowly pressed against the skyline.

Hoping to break a window.

Mostly quick handfuls of boys' skin.

Summer twilights that took forever to get rid of.

Mostly Mick Jagger.

3

How do I explain my hungry stare?

My Friday night spent changing clothes?

My love for travel? I rewind the way he says "now"

with so much roof of the mouth.

I rewind until I get a clear image of myself：

I'm telling the joke he taught me

about my body. My mouth is stretched open

so I don't laugh. My hands are pretending

to have just discovered my own face.

My name is written out in metal studs

across my little pink jumper.

I've got a mirror and a good idea

of the way I want my face to look.

When I glance sideways my smile should twitch

as if a funny picture of me is taped up

inside the corner of my eye.

A picture where my hair is combed over each shoulder，

my breasts are well-supported， and my teeth barely show.

A picture where I'm trying hard to say "beautiful."

He always says "This is my skinny rib cage，

my one， two chest hairs."

That's all he ever says.

Think of a bird with no feathers

or think of a hundred lips bruising every inch of his skin.

There are no pictures of him hoping

he said the right thing