——Samuel Coleridge. British poet
对付大多数人，履历像是一艘船上的尾灯，只照亮船驶过的航道。
——寒缪尔·柯尔津治，英国墨客
诗歌素材推举
▌I'm Nobody
Emily Dickinson
I 'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there is a pair of us ——don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.
How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog,
To tell your name the livelong day,
To an admiring bog!
我是无名之辈！
艾米莉·狄金森
我是无名之辈！
你是谁？
你也是无名之辈？
那咱俩就成了一对——别出声！
他们会排挤咱们——要小心！
做个大人物多没劲！
多招摇——像只田鸡
对着欣赏的小水洼
整日里炫耀自己的名号
▌O Captain! My Captain
Walt Whitman
O Captain! my Captain! Our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won.
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring ;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! Rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up —for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills.
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths —for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won :
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
哦，船长，我的船长！
沃尔特 惠特曼
哦，船长，我的船长！
我们所畏惧的航程已经闭幕，
我们的船渡过了各种险关，我们寻求的奖赏已经得到。
前方便是港□，钟声我已听见，听到了人们的欢呼，
目迎着我们的船从容返航，威严而且年夜胆；
可是，心啊！
心啊！
心啊！
哦，殷红的血滴流泻，
在甲板上，我的船长倒下了，
他已倒下，已去世去，已冷却。
哦，船长，我的船长！
起来听听这钟声吧，
起来——旌旗为你飘荡——号角为你长鸣。
为你，岸上挤满了人群——为你，无数花束、彩带、花环。
为你，熙攘的群众在呼唤，迁徙改变着多少殷切的脸。
这里，船长！
亲爱的父亲！
你的头枕在我的手臂上吧！
这是甲板上的一场梦啊，
你已倒下，已去世去，已冷却。
我们的船长不作回答，他的双唇惨白而僵硬，
我的父亲觉得不到我的手臂，他已没有脉搏、没有生命，
我们的船已安全抛锚定泊，航行已完成，已告终，
胜利的船从险恶的旅途归来，目的已经达到；
欢呼吧，哦，海岸！
轰鸣，哦，钟声！
但是，我迈着悲痛的步伐，
在甲板上，那里躺着我的船长，
他已倒下，已去世去，已冷却。
▌The Chimney Sweeper
William Blake
When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry \公众weep! weep! weep! weep!
So your chimney I sweep, in soot I sleep.
There's little Tom Dacre who cried when his head
That curled like a lamb's back, was shaved, so I said,
\"大众Hush, Tom! never mind it, for when our head's bare,
You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair.\公众
And so he was quiet, that very night,
As Tom was a-sleeping he had such a sight!
That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, Jack,
Were all of them locked up in coffins of black;
And by came an angel who had a bright key,
And he opened the coffins set them all free;
Then down a green plain, leaping, laughing they run
And wash in a river, and shine in the sun;
Then naked white, all their bags left behind,
They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind,
And the angel told Tom, if he'd be a good boy,
He'd have God for his father, and never want joy.
And so Tom awoke; and we rose in the dark,
And got with our bags and our brushes to work.
Though the morning was cold, Tom was happy warm;
So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.
扫烟囱的小男孩
威廉·布莱克
我母亲去世的时候，我还小，
我父亲把我卖给了别人，
我当时还不太喊得清”扫呀，扫呀”，
就这样白天扫你们的烟囱，晚上在烟灰里睡觉。
有个小汤姆，头发卷得像羊毛，
剃光的时候，哭得好伤心，好难熬痛苦，
我就说：“小汤姆，别哭，光了头，
烟灰就不会挥霍你的头发了。”
他沉着了下来，当天夜里，
汤姆睡着了，梦见了这样的景象，
迪克、乔、南德、杰克等万万千万个扫烟菌小孩
统统被锁进了黑棺材。
后来来了个天使，拿了把金钥匙，
他打开棺材放出了孩子们，
他们又跳又笑地来到了草地上，
洗澡于河水，晾晒于阳光。
把工具袋丢下，赤条条的，白白的，
他们升到云端，在风中嬉戏；
“只要你做个好孩子，”天使对汤姆说，
上帝会做你的父亲，永不短缺欢畅
汤姆于是梦醒，我们在阴郁中起床，
拿起工具袋和刷子去干活。
晓风虽冷，汤姆自感心欢温暖；
如果所有人都恪尽职守，就不怕灾害。
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