经典英文美文选集

Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Day

我如何能够将你比做夏日

William Shakespeare

 

Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds ofMay.

And summer's lease hath all too short adate.

Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimmed;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance, or nature's changing course,untrimmed

But the eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thouow'st;

Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in hisshade

When in eternal lines to time thou growest.

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see.

So long lives this, and this gives life tothee.

 

Spring

春

Spring, the sweet spring, is the year'spleasant king;

Then bloom each time, then maids dance in aring,

Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds dosing,

Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

 

The palm and may make country house gay,

Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipeall day,

And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay,

Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

 

The fields breathe sweet; the daisies kissour feet,

Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,

In every street these tunes our ears dogreet,

Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

Spring! The sweet Spring!

 

To Celia

致塞丽亚之歌

Drink to me only with thine eyes,

And I will pledge with mine;

Or leave a kiss but in the cup

And I'll not look for wine.

The thirst that from the soul doth rise

Doth ask a drink divine;

But might I of Jove's nectar sup,

I would not change for thine.

 

I sent thee late a rosy wreath,

Not so much honouring thee

As giving it a hope that there

It could not wither'd be;

But thou thereon didst only breathe

And sent'st is back to me;

Since when it grow, and smells, I swear,

Not of itself but thee!

 

Death Be Not Proud

死神莫神气

Death be not proud, though some have calledthee

Mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not soe,

For, those, whom you think'st, thou dostoverthrow,

Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thoukill me;

From rest and sleep, which but thy picturesbee,

Much pleasure, then from thee, much moremust flow,

And soonest our best men with thee doe go,

Rest of their bones, and souls deliverie.

Thou art slave to Fate, chance, kings, anddesperate men,

And dost with poison, warre, and sicknessdwell,

And poppie, or charms can make us sleep aswell.

And better than thy stroake, why swell'stthou then?

One short sleep past, we wake eternally,

And death shall be no more, Death thoushalt die.

 

To the Virgins,

to Make Much of Time

劝姑娘们莫误青春

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,

Old Time is still a-flying:

And this same flower that smiles today,

Tomorrow will be dying.

 

The glorious lamp of heaven, the Sun,

The higher he's a-getting,

The sooner will his race be run,

And nearer he's to setting.

 

That age is best which is the first,

When youth and blood are warmer;

But being spent, the worse, and worst

Times, still succeed the former.

 

Then be not cry, but use your time;

And while ye may, go marry:

For having lost but once your prime,

You may forever tarry.

 

Ode on Solitude

平静的生活

Happy the man whose wish and care

A few paternal acres bound,

Content to breathe his native air,

In his own ground.

 

Whose herds with milk, whose fields

with bread,

Whose flocks supply him with attire,

Whose trees in summer yield him

shade, In white fire.

 

Blest, who can unconcernedly find

Hours, days and years slide soft away,

In health of body, peace of mind, Quiet

by day.

 

Sound sleep by night; study and ease,

Together mixed; sweet recreations;

And innocence, which most does

please With meditation.

 

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;

Thus unlamented let me die;

Steal from the world, and not a stone

Tell where I lie.

 

The Tiger

老虎

Tiger, tiger, burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

 

In what distant deeps or skies

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand dare seize the fire?

 

And what shoulder and what art

Could twist the sinews of thy hearts?

And, when thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand and what dread feet?

 

What the hammer? What the chain?

In what furnace was thy brain?

What the anvil? What dread grasp

Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

 

When the stars threw down their spears,

And water'd heaven with their tears,

Did he smile his work to see?

Did he who made the lamb make thee?

 

Tiger, tiger, burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

 

A Red, Red Rose

一朵红红的玫瑰

O my love is like a red, red rose,

That's newly sprung in June;

O my love is like the melodie

That's sweetly played in tune.

 

As fair thou art, my bonie lass,

So deep in love am I;

And I will love thee still, my dear,

Till all the seas gang dry.

 

Till all the seas gang dry, my dear,

And the rocks melt wil the sun;

And I will love thee still, my dear,

While the sands o life shall run.

 

And fare thee weel, my only love,

And fare thee weel a while,

And I will come again, my love,

Tho it were ten thousand mile!

 

John Anderson, My Jo

约翰。安德生，我的爱人

John Anderson my jo, John,

When we were first acqent,

Your locks were like the raven,

Your bonie brow was brent;

But now your brow is beld, John,

Your locks are like the snow,

But blessing on your frosty pow,

John Anderson, my jo!

 

John Anderson my jo, John,

We clamb the hill together

And mony a canty day, John,

We've had wi'ane anither:

Now we maun totter down, John,

And hand in hand we'll go,

And sleep together at the foot,

John Anderson, my jo!

 

The Bank O' Doon

杜恩河畔

Ye Banks and braes o' bonie Doon.

How can ye bloom so fresh and fair;

How can ye chant, ye little birds,

And I so weary, full of care!

Thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird,

That wantons thro the flowering thorn:

Thou mind me o' departed joys,

Departed, never to return.------

 

Oft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon,

To see the rose and woodbine twine;

And ilka bird sang o'its love,

And fondly so did I o'mine.

Wi lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,

Fu'sweet upon its thorny tree;-----

And my false lover stole my rose,

But, ah! He left the thorn with me.-----

 

The Daffodils

水仙花

I wander'd lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

 

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the Milky Way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

The thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

 

The waves beside them danced, but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay

In such a jocund company!

I gazed- and gazed- but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

 

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

 

The Solitary Reaper

孤独的割麦者

Behold her, single in the field,

Yon solitary Highland Lass!

Reaping and singing by herself;

Stop here, or gently pass!

Alone she cuts and binds the grain,

And sing a melancholy strain;

O listen! For the Vale profound

Is overflowing with the sound.

 

No nightingale did ever chant

More welcome notes to weary bands

Of travelers in some shady haunt,

Among Arabian sands;

A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard

In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,

Breaking the silence of the seas

Among the farthest Hebrides.

 

Will no one tell me what she sings?

Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow

For old, unhappy, far-off things,

And battles long ago;

Or is it some more humble lay,

Familiar matter of today?

Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,

That has been, and may be again?

 

What'er the theme, the Maiden sang

As if her song could have no ending;

I saw her singing at her work,

And O'er the sickle bending;

I listen'd, motionless and still;

And, as I mounted up the hill,

The music in my heart I bore,

Long after it was heard no more.

 

Composed upon Westminster Bridge

威斯敏斯特桥上的随想

Earth has not anything to show more fair:

Dull would he be of soul who could pass by

A sight so touching in its majesty:

This City now doth, like a garment, wear.

 

The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,

Ships, towers, domes, theaters, and templeslike

Open unto the fields, and to the sky,

All bright and glittering in the smokelessair.

 

Never did sun more beautifully steep

In his first splendour valley, rock, orhill;

Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!

 

The river glideth at his own sweet will:

Dear God! The very houses seem asleep;

And all that mighty heart is lying still!

 

On the Castle of Chillon

咏锡荣堡

Eternal spirit of the chainless Mind!

Brightest in dungeons, Liberty, thou art -

For there thy habitation is the heart -

The heart which love of Thee alone canbind;

 

And when thy sons to fetters are consigned,

To fetters, and the damp vault's daylessgloom,

Their country conquers with theirmartyrdom,

And Freedom's fame finds wings on everywind.

 

Chillon! Thy prison is a holy place

And thy sad floor and an altar, for 'twastrod,

Until his very steps have left a trace

 

Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod,

By Bonnivard! May none those marks efface!

For they appeal from tyranny to God.

 

Ozymandias

奥齐曼迭斯

I met a traveler from an antique land

Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs ofstone

Stand in the desert … Near them, on thesand,

Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whosefrown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of coldcommand,

Tell that its sculptor well those passionsread

Which yet survive, stamped on theselifeless things,

The hand that mocked them and the heartthat fed;

And on the pedestal these words appear:

"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:

Look on my works, ye Mighty, anddespair!"

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,

The lone and level sands stretch far away.

 

Love's Philosophy

爱的哲学

The fountains mingle with the river

And the rivers with the ocean,

The winds of Heaven mix forever

With a sweet emotion;

Nothing in the world is single,

All things by a law divine

In one another's being mingle-

Why not I with thine?

 

See the mountains kiss high heaven

And the waves clasp one another;

No sister-flower would be forgiven

If it disdained its brother:

And the sunlight clasps the earth,

And the moonbeams kiss the sea-

What are all these kissings worth,

If thou kiss not me?

 

Rise Like Lions

像梦醒的雄狮般奋起

Rise like Lions after slumber

In unvanquishable number-

Shake your chains to earth like dew

Which in sleep had fallen on you -

Ye are many - they are few.

 

The Grasshopper and the Cricket

蜾蜾与蛐蛐

The poetry of earth is never dead.

When all the birds are faint with the hotsun

And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run

From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead-

That is the Grasshopper's. He takes thelead

In summer luxury; he has never done

With his delights, for when tired out withfun

He rests at ease beneath some pleasantweed.

The poetry of earth is ceasing never.

On a lone winter evening, when the frost

Has wrought a silence, from the stove thereshrills

The cricket's song, in warmth increasingever,

And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,

The grasshoppers among some grassy hills.

 

Ode on a Grecian Urn

希腊古翁颂

Thou still unravished bride of quietness,

Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,

Sylvan historian, who canst thus express

A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:

What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thyshape

Of deities of mortals, or of both,

In Tempe orthe dales of Arcady?

What men or gods are these?  What maidens loth?

What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?

What pipes and trembles? What wild ecstasy?

 

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard

Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, playon;

Not to the sensual ear, but, more endeared,

Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:

Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canstnot leave

Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;

Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,

Though winning near the goal - yet, do notgrieve;

She cannot fade, though thou hast not thybliss.

 

Ah, happy, happy boughs! That cannot shed

Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;

And, happy melodies, unwearied,

Forever piping songs for ever new;

More happy love! More happy, happy love!

Forever warm and still to be enjoyed,

For ever painting, and for ever young;

All breathing human passion far above,

That leaves a heart high-sorrowful andcloyed

A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

 

Who are these coming to the sacrifice?

To what green altar, o mysterious priest,

Lead's thou that heifer lowing at theskies,

And all her silken flanks with garlandsdressed?

What little town by river or seashore,

Or mountain, built with peaceful citadel,

Is emptied of its folk, this pious morn?

And, little town, thy streets for evermore

Will silent be; and not a soul to tell

Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.

 

O Attic shape, fair attitude! With breed

Of marble men and maidens overwrought,

With forest branches and the trodden weed;

Thou, silent form! Dost tease out ofthought

As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!

When old age shall this generation waste

Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe

Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thousay'st,

Beauty is Truth, Truth Beauty: -- that isall

Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.

 

The Arrow and the song

箭与歌

I shot an arrow into the air,

It fell to earth, I knew not where;

For, so swiftly it flew, the sight

Could not follow it in its flight.

 

I breathed a song into the air,

It fell to earth, I knew not where;

For who has sight so keen and strong,

That it can follow the flight of song?

 

Long, long afterwards, in an oak

I found the arrow, still unbroken;

And the song, from beginning to end,

I found again in the heart of a friend.

 

Sweet and Low

轻轻地，柔和地

Sweet and low, sweet and low,

Wind of western sea,

Low, low, breathe and blow,

Wind of the western sea!

Over the rolling waters go,

Come from the dying moon, and blow,

Blow him again to me,

While my little one, while my pretty

one, sleeps.

 

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,

Father will come to thee soon;

Rest, rest on mother's breast,

Father will come to the soon;

Father will come to his babe in the nest,

Silver sails all out of the west

Under the silver moon;

Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one,sleep.

 

The Eagle

鹰

He clasps the crag with crooked hands;

Close to the sun in lonely lands,

Ringed with the azure world, he stands.

 

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;

He watches from his mountain walls,

And like a thunderbolt he falls.

 

Annabel Lee

安娜贝.李

It was many and many years 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 otherthought

Than to love and beloved 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 thanlove -

I and my Annabel Lee -

With a love that the winged seraphs ofHeaven

Coveted her and me.

 

And this was the reason that, long ago,

In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blow out of a cloud by night

Chilling my Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsmen came

And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulcher

In this kingdom by the sea.

 

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

Went envying 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 thanthe love

Of these 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 soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:

 

For the moon never beams without bringingme

Dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise but I see thebright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down bythe side

Of my darling, my darling, my life and mybride,

In the sepulcher there by the sea -

In her tomb by the side of the sea.

 

The Year's at the Spring

春天

The year's at the Spring,

And day's at the morn;

Morning's at seven;

The hill-side's dew-pearled;

 

The lark's on the wing;

The snail's on the thorn;

God's in his heaven -

All's right with the world!

 

O Captain! My Captain!

啊，船长！我的船长

O Captain! My captain! Our fearful trip isdone,

The ship has weathered every rack, theprize we sought is won,

The port is near, the bells I hear, thepeople all exulting,

While follow eyes the steady keel, thevessel 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 thebells;

Rise up --- for you the flag is flung ---for you the bugle trills,

For you bouquets and ribbon wreaths --- foryou the shores crowding,

For you they call, the swaying mass, theireager 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 arepale and still,

My father does not feel my arm; he has nopulse or will;

The ship is anchored safe and sound, itsvoyage closed and done;

From fearful trip the victor ship comes inwith object won;

Exult, O shores! And ring, O bells!

But I, with mournful tread,

Walk the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

 

I Hear America Singing

我听到美利坚在歌唱

I hear America singing, the varied carols'I hear,

Those of mechanics, each one singing his asit should be

Blithe and strong,

The carpenter singing his as he measureshis plank or beam,

The mason singing his as he makes ready forwork, or leaves off work,

The boatman singing what belongs to him inhis boat,

The deckhand singing on the steamboat deck,

The shoemaker singing as he sits on hisbench, the hatter

Singing as he stands,

The woodcutter song, the ploughboy's on hisway in

the morning, or at noon intermission or atsundown,

the delicious singing of the mother, or ofthe young

wife at work, or of the girl sewing orwashing,

each singing what belongs to him or her andto none else,

The day what belongs to the day - at nightthe party of

young fellows, robust, friendly,

Singing with open mouths their strongmelodious songs.

 

Dover Beach

多佛尔海滨

The sea is calm tonight,

The tide is full, the moon lies fair

Upon the straits, on the French coast thelight

Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,

Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquilbay,

Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!

Only, from the long line of spray

Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land.

 

Listen! You hear the grating roar

Of pebbles which the waves draw back, andfling,

At their return, up the high strand,

Begin, and cease, and then again begin,

With tremulous cadence slow, and bring

The eternal note of sadness in.

 

Sophocles long ago,

Heard it on the Aegean,and it brought

Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow

Of human misery; we

Find also in the sound a thought,

Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

 

The sea of Faith

Was once, too, at the full, and roundearth's shore

Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.

But now I only hear

Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,

Retreating, to the breath

Of the night-wind, down the vast edgesdrear

And naked shingles of the world.

 

Ah, love, let us be true

To one another! For the world, which seems

To lie before us like a land of dreams,

So various, so beautiful, so new,

Hath really neither joy, nor love, norlight,

Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help forpain;

And we are here as on a darkling plain

Swept with confused alarms of struggle andflight,

Where ignorant armies clash by night.

 

When I Am Dead, My Dearest

永别之时，我的至爱

When I am dead, my dearest,

Sing no sad songs for me;

Plant thou no roses at my head,

Nor shady cypress tree:

Be the green grass above me

With showers and dewdrops wet:

And if thou wilt, remember,

And if thou wilt, forget.

 

I shall not see the shadows,

I shall not feel the rain;

I shall not hear the nightingale

Sing on as if in pain:

And dreaming through the twilight

That doth not rise nor set,

Haply I may remember,

And haply may forget.

 

A Birthday

生日

My heart is like a singing bird

Whose nest is in a watered shoot;

My heart is like an apple tree

Whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit?

My heart is like a rainbow shell

That paddles in a halcyon sea;

My heart is gladder than all these

Because my love is come to me.

 

Raise me a dais of silk and down;

Hang it with vair and purple dyes;

Carve it doves, and pomegranates,

And peacocks with a hundred eyes;

Work it in gold and silver grapes;

In leaves, and silver fleurs-de-lys;

Because the birthday of my life

Is come, my love is come to me.

 

I'm Nobody

我是无名小卒

I'm nobody, who are you?

Are you nobody too?

Then there's 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 June

To an admiring bog.

 

The Snake

蛇

A narrow Fellow in the Grass

Occasionally rides ---

You may have net Him --- did you not

His notice sudden is ---

 

The Grass divides as with a Comb ---

A spotted shaft is seen ---

And then it closes at your feet

And opens further on ---

 

He likes a Boggy Acre

A Floor too cool for Corn ---

Yet when a Boy, and Barefoot ---

I more than once at Noon

Have passed, I thought, a Whip lash

Unbraiding in the Sun

When stooping to secure it

It wrinkled, and was gone ---

 

Several of Nature's People

I know; and they know me ---

I feel for them a transport

Of cordiality ---

 

But never met this Fellow

Attended, or alone

Without a tighter breathing

And Zero at the bone ---

 

The Man He Killed

他枪杀的人

Had he and I but met

By some old ancient inn.

We should have set us down to wet

Right many a nipperkin!

 

"But ranged as infantry,

And staring face to face,

I shot at him as he at me,

And killed him in his place.

 

"I shot him dead because ---

Because he was my foe.

Just so: my foe of course he was;

That's clear enough; although

 

"He thought he'd list, perhaps,

Off-hand like --- just as I ---

Was out of work --- had sold his traps

No other reason why.

 

"Yes; quaint and curious war is!

You shoot a fellow down

You'd treat if met where any bar is.

Or help to half-a-crown."

 

When I Came Last to Ludlow

上次我回到露楼镇

When I came last to Ludlow

Amidst the moonlight pale,

Two friends kept step beside me,

Two honest lads and hale.

 

Now Dick lies long is the churchyard,

And Ned lies long in jail,

And I come home to Ludlow

Amidst the moonlight pale.

 

The Wild Swans at Coole

库尔庄园的野天鹅

The trees are in their autumn beauty,

The woodland paths are dry,

Under the October twilight the water

Mirror's a still sky;

Upon the brimming water among the stones

Are nine-and-fifty swans.

 

The nineteenth autumn has come upon me

Since I first made my count;

I saw, before I had well finished,

All suddenly mount

And scatter wheeling in great broken rings

Upon their clamorous wings.

 

I have looked upon those brilliantcreatures,

And now my heart is sore,

All's changed since I, hearing at twilight,

The first time on this shore,

The bell-beat of their wings above my head,

Trod with a lighter tread.

 

Unwearied still, lover by lover,

They paddle in the cold

Companionable streams or climb the air;

Their hearts have not grown old;

Passion or conquest, wander where theywill,

Attend upon them still.

 

But now they drift on the still water,

Mysterious, beautiful;

Among what rushes will they build,

By what lake's edge or pool

Delight men's eyes when I awake some day

To find they have flown away?

 

Nothing Gold Can Stay

黄金时代倍难留

Nature's first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf's a flower;

But only so an hour.

 

The leaf subsides to leaf.

So Edensank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

 

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

傍晚林中赏雪

Whose woods these are I think I know

His house is in the village, though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow

 

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

 

He gives his hardness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound's the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

 

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

 

The Road Not Taken

未走的路

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And look down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

 

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that, the passing there

Had worn them really about the same.

 

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

 

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence.

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I ---

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

 

Fog

雾

The fog comes

on little cat feet.

It sits looking

over harbor and city

on silent haunches

and then moves on.

 

Dreams

梦想  

Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly.

 

Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go

Life is a barren field

Frozen with snow.

 

Harlem

哈莱姆

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up

like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore ---

And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?

Or crust and sugar over ---

like a syrupy sweet?

 

Maybe it just sags

like a heavy load,

Or does it explode?

 

The Pond

池

Bright clouds of May

Shade half the pond.

Beyond,

All but one bay

Of emerald

Tall reeds

Like criss-cross bayonets

Where a bird once called,

Lies bright as the sun.

No one heeds.

The light wind frets

And drifts the scum

Of may-blossom.

Till the moorhen calls

Again

Naught's to be done

By birds or men.

Still the May falls.