美国著名诗人及代表作,世界著名诗人( 二 ) _生活百科

B. 美洲
阿兹台克
特拉特卡岑
爱斯基摩
诗二首
美国
爱伦·坡爱默生惠特曼狄更生斯蒂芬·克兰
史蒂文斯弗罗斯特桑德堡威廉斯庞德
杜丽特尔奥登卡明斯克莱恩罗伯特·邓肯
奥尔森A·R·阿门斯金斯堡约翰·阿什伯利塔特
兰斯敦·休斯默温勃莱毕肖普罗伯特·洛威尔
普拉斯贝里曼塞克斯顿斯诺德格拉斯奥哈拉
布洛茨基艾米·洛威尔米蕾梯斯苔尔马斯特斯
斯塔福德艾德里安娜·里奇伊格内托金内尔拉尼尔
奥利弗麦克里许杰弗斯路易斯·格吕克
加拿大
阿特伍德布洛克
阿根廷
【美国著名诗人及代表作,世界著名诗人】卢贡内斯博尔赫斯斯托尔尼
哥伦比亚
哈克夫瓦伦西亚卡兰萨
巴西
奥里维拉班代拉拉莫斯莫拉埃斯内托
伊沃梅雷莱斯
委内瑞拉
西尔瓦
乌拉圭
阿古斯蒂尼伊巴博罗
智利
聂鲁达密斯特拉尔维多夫罗
秘鲁
巴列霍
墨西哥
帕斯
尼加拉瓜
达里奥
圣卢西亚
沃尔科特
波多黎各
马托斯
C. 亚洲
希伯来
《圣经诗歌》
巴比伦
吉尔伽美什伊什塔尔下阴间
古阿拉伯
穆海勒希勒盖斯韩莎
印度
泰戈尔
斯里兰卡
西格利亚诗选
尼泊尔
珍黛妮·沙阿
以色列
阿米亥《阿米亥诗选》
黎巴嫩
纪伯伦
日本
谷川俊太郎与谢野晶子石川啄木岛崎藤村
朝鲜|韩国
金素月鞠孝汶柳谨助文忠成
越南
刘仲庐
泰国
诗琳通
菲律宾
黎萨尔
印尼西亚
哈姆扎伦德拉
D. 非洲
埃及
亡灵书尼罗河颂新王朝时期的情歌阿顿颂诗
邵基艾布·沙迪
突尼斯
沙比
阿尔及利亚
狄布
尼日利亚
奥基格博索因卡
塞内加尔
桑戈尔
南非
勃鲁图斯
E. 澳洲
新西兰
巴克斯特
1.Emily dickins(美国）爱米莉?狄更生，总是喜欢写跟死亡有关的题材；
2.whitman惠特曼(美国），写《草叶集》的那个，开一代新风。
3.Willam Wordsworth华兹华斯为代表的湖畔派诗人
4.T.S.Eliot艾略特，写《荒原》的那个，现代主义的,个人还喜欢他的《空心人》the hollowed men,大概是这样拼吧。
5.拜伦：一个写诗歌的战士
6.雪莱、主要作品有《为诗辩护》、《麦布女王》、《伊斯兰的起义》、《解放了的普罗米休斯》和《钦契》。
7.济慈《夜莺颂》
8.波德莱尔，法国象征主义执牛耳者，代表作《恶之花》
9.allan poe艾伦坡，美国的，《乌鸦》
10.EE.Cummings卡明斯
国内外著名诗人及代表作

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我推荐下面几位诗人和他们的诗，都是熟篇目。1、W.B.Yeats（威廉姆·巴特·叶芝，英国） He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven Had I heavens’embroidered cloths， Enwrought with golden and silver light. The blue and the dim and the dark cloths， Of night and light and the half light. I would spread the cloths under your feet, But I, being poor, have only my dreams. I have spread my dreams under your feet, Tread softly because you tread on my dreams. 天国的嫁衣如有天孙锦，愿为君铺地。镶金复镶银，明暗日夜继。家贫锦难求，唯有以梦替。践履慎轻置，吾梦不堪碎。（和很多人一样，这首诗我最喜欢的也是居浩然的译笔，不仅达意，而且很古雅。） 2、Percy Bysshe Shelley（这个就是著名的雪莱了，英国人） The Cloud I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother&aposs breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder. 云（节选）我为焦渴的鲜花，从河川，从海洋带来清新的甘霖；我为绿叶披上淡淡的凉荫，当他们从我的翅膀上摇落露珠，去唤醒每一朵香甜的蓓蕾，当她们的母亲绕太阳旋舞时摇晃着使她们在怀里入睡。我挥动冰雹的连枷，把绿色的原野捶打得有如银装素裹，再用雨水把冰雪消溶，我轰然大笑，当我在雷声中走过。（故意没有推荐《西风颂》。） 3、Willam Wordsworth（华兹华斯，英国人，湖畔诗派的著名诗人） We Are Seven A SIMPLE Child, That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death? I met a little cottage Girl: She was eight years old, she said; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad: Her eyes were fair, and very fair; —Her beauty made me glad. ‘Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be?’ ‘How many? Seven in all,’ she said, And wondering looked at me. ‘And where are they? I pray you tell.’ She answered, ‘Seven are we; And two of us at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea. ‘Two of us in the church-yard lie, My sister and my brother; And, in the church-yard cottage, I Dwell near them with my mother.’ ‘You say that two at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea, Yet ye are seven!—I pray you tell, Sweet Maid, how this may be.’ Then did the little Maid reply, ‘Seven boys and girls are we; Two of us in the church-yard lie, Beneath the church-yard tree.’ ‘You run above, my little Maid, Your limbs they are alive; If two are in the church-yard laid, Then ye are only five.’ ‘Their graves are green, they may be seen,’ The little Maid replied, ‘Twelve steps or more from my mother’s door, And they are side by side. ‘My stockings there I often knit, My kerchief there I hem; And there upon the ground I sit, And sing a song to them. ‘And often after sun-set, Sir, When it is light and fair, I take my little porringer, And eat my supper there. ‘The first that died was sister Jane; In bed she moaning lay, Till God released her of her pain; And then she went away. ‘So in the church-yard she was laid; And, when the grass was dry, Together round her grave we played, My brother John and I . ‘And when the ground was white with snow, And I could run and slide, My brother John was forced to go, And he lies by her side.’ ‘How many are you, then,’ said I, ‘If they two are in heaven?’ Quick was the little Maid’s reply, ‘O Master! we are seven.’ ‘But they are dead; those two are dead! Their spirits are in heaven!’ ’Twas throwing words away; for still The little Maid would have her will, And said, ‘Nay, we are seven!’ “我们七个” 一个单纯的小孩，他呼吸，轻快无比，每只手脚都充满了生命，他哪管什么叫死。我碰到一个小女孩，住乡下小屋，说她八岁。她有着一头乱发，在头上，一一下坠。她一派乡野土气，穿着随便失体，她眼睛漂亮、真漂亮， ——她的美使我欢喜。“小姑娘啊，”我问道， “你可有几个兄弟姊妹？” “几个呢？一共七个。”她答道，看着我，奇怪有什么不对。“告诉我，他们都在哪儿？” 她答道：“一共七位，两个去航海，两个住康卫。“哥哥姐姐两个，埋在坟里。靠近他们，那小屋妈妈和我住在一起。” “你说两个去航海，两个住康卫。但你们有七个，可爱的姑娘，这有点不对。” 小姑娘还是照说： “我们七个不差。” （这是胡虚一、李敖译的） 4、Emily Dickinson（艾米莉·狄金森，美国人，一个女隐者） I DIED For Beauty I died for beauty - but was scarce Adjusted in the Tomb When one who died for Truth, was lain In the adjoining Room – He questioned softly “ Why I failed” ? “ For beauty”, I replied – “ And I – for Truth – Themself are One We Brethren, are”, He said – And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night – We talked between the Rooms – Until the Moss had reached our lips – And convered up – our names – 我为美而死我为美而死，对坟墓几乎还不适应一个殉真理的烈士就成了我的近邻— 他轻声问我“为什么倒下”？我回答他：“为了美”— 他说：“我为真理，真与美— 是一体，我们是兄弟”— 就这样，像亲人，黑夜相逢— 我们隔着房间谈心— 直到苍苔长上我们的嘴唇— 覆盖掉，我们的姓名— （这首诗的译本很多，但我最喜欢这一个。它很朴素。） 5、T.S.Eliot（艾略特，美国人） The Waste Land I. THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. Winter kept us warm, covering 5 Earth in forgetful snow, feeding A little life with dried tubers. Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade, And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten, 10 And drank coffee, and talked for an hour. Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch. And when we were children, staying at the archduke's, My cousin's, he took me out on a sled, And I was frightened. He said, Marie, 15 Marie, hold on tight. And down we went. In the mountains, there you feel free. I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter. What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, 20 You cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And the dry stone no sound of water. Only There is shadow under this red rock, 25 (Come in under the shadow of this red rock), And I will show you something different from either Your shadow at morning striding behind you Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you; I will show you fear in a handful of dust. 30 Frisch weht der Wind Der Heimat zu. Mein Irisch Kind, Wo weilest du? 'You gave me hyacinths first a year ago; 35 'They called me the hyacinth girl.' —Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden, Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, 40 Looking into the heart of light, the silence. Od' und leer das Meer. Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante, Had a bad cold, nevertheless Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe, 45 With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she, Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor, (Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!) Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks, The lady of situations. 50 Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel, And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card, Which is blank, is something he carries on his back, Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find The Hanged Man. Fear death by water. 55 I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring. Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone, Tell her I bring the horoscope myself: One must be so careful these days. Unreal City, 60 Under the brown fog of a winter dawn, A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many, I had not thought death had undone so many. Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled, And each man fixed his eyes before his feet. 65 Flowed up the hill and down King William Street, To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine. There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying 'Stetson! 'You who were with me in the ships at Mylae! 70 'That corpse you planted last year in your garden, 'Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year? 'Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed? 'Oh keep the Dog far hence, that's friend to men, 'Or with his nails he'll dig it up again! 75 'You! hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable,—mon frère!' 荒原一、死者的葬礼四月最残忍，从死了的土地滋生丁香，混杂着回忆和欲望，让春雨挑动着呆钝的根。冬天保我们温暖，把大地埋在忘怀的雪里，使干了的球茎得一点点生命。夏天来得意外，随着一阵骤雨到了斯坦伯吉西；我们躲在廊下，等太阳出来，便到郝夫加登去喝咖啡，又闲谈了一点钟。我不是俄国人，原籍立陶宛，是纯德国种。我们小时侯，在大公家做客，那是我表兄，他带我出去滑雪撬，我害怕死了。他说，玛丽，玛丽，抓紧了呵。于是我们冲下去。在山中，你会感到舒畅。我大半夜看书，冬天去到南方。这是什么根在抓着，是什么树杈从这片乱石里长出来？人子呵，你说不出，也猜不着，因为你只知道一堆破碎的形象，受着太阳拍击，而枯树没有阴凉，蟋蟀不使人轻松，干石头发不出流水的声音。只有一片阴影在这红色的岩石下，（来吧，请走进这红岩石下的阴影）我要指给你一件事，它不同于你早晨的影子，跟在你后面走也不象你黄昏的影子，起来迎你，我要指给你恐惧是在一撮尘土里。风儿吹得清爽，吹向我的家乡，我的爱尔兰孩子，如今你在何方？ “一年前你初次给了我风信子，他们都叫我风信子女郎。” ——可是当我们从风信子花园走回，天晚了，你的两臂抱满，你的头发是湿的，我说不出话来，两眼看不见，我不生也不死，什么也不知道，看进光的中心，那一片沉寂。荒凉而空虚是那大海。索索斯垂丝夫人，著名的相命家，患了重感冒，但仍然是欧洲公认的最有智慧的女人，她有一副鬼精灵的纸牌。这里，她说，你的牌，淹死的腓尼基水手，（那些明珠曾经是他的眼睛。看！）这是美女贝拉磨娜，岩石的女人，有多种遭遇的女人。这是有三根杖的人，这是轮盘，这是独眼商人，还有这张牌是空白的，他拿来背在背上，不许我看见。我找不到。那绞死的人。小心死在水里。我看见成群的人，在一个圈里转。谢谢你。如果你看见伊奎通太太，就说我亲自把星象图带过去：这年头人得万事小心呵。不真实的城，在冬天早晨棕黄色的雾下，一群人流过伦敦桥，呵，这么多我没有想到死亡毁灭了这么多。叹息，隔一会短短地嘘出来，每个人的目光都盯着自己的脚。流上小山，流下威廉王大街，直到圣玛丽·乌尔诺教堂，在那里大钟正沉沉桥着九点的最后一响。那儿我遇到一个熟人，喊住他道： “史太森！你记得我们在麦来船上！去年你种在你的花园里的尸首，它发芽了吗？今年能开花吗？还是突然霜冻搅乱了它的花床？哦，千万把狗撵开，那是人类之友，不然他会用爪子又把它掘出来！你呀，伪善的读者——我的同类，我的兄弟！” （这首诗一共有五节，这只是第一节）