雪莱经典短篇诗歌

雪莱经典短篇诗歌（共3篇）

小学经典短篇现代诗歌 篇1

背着背包上学去

背包里藏有我生命的种子

我踏着清澈的水流

趟着一条小溪

脚丫拍起银花四射的浪花

我欢雀、跳跃

一不小心，背包滑落

跑进洁白浪花的怀里

我捡起生命的宝匣，打开

捧着湿淋淋的生命种子

种子——你渴了吗

你不跑进我干涸的脑海

却跑进湿润的小溪

现在，我把你怎样处置

把你带回我的教室

让同学们把你讥诮、批评

或把你放在岸边的岩石上

让慈爱的阳光妈妈把你沐浴

——也许她们粗糙的举止

让我对你有些愧疚

还是让我手的温度把你烘干

把你藏在宝匣

藏在我神秘的脑海

不受世界任何元素的伤害

——因为你是我生命的种子

干净的种子，美丽的种子

我害怕你背上大自然任何的污点

弄坏我纯净的思想

犹如我脚下这条清澈的小溪

让我看到奔跑的洁白的浪花

装饰着生活的美丽

你们伴着我童年的快乐

带着我梦的翅膀

雪莱的诗歌 篇2

它一刻不停地奔跑，闪耀，颤栗，

向黑暗放出灿烂的光辉！

——但很快夜幕合拢了，

它就永远隐去；

又象被忘却的琴，不调和的弦

每次拨弄都发出不同的音响，

在那纤弱的乐器上，每次重弹，

情调和音节都不会和前次一样。

我们睡下：一场梦能毒戕安息；

我们起来：游思又会玷污白天；

我们感觉，思索，想象，笑或哭泣，

无论抱住悲伤，或者摔脱忧烦：

终归是一样！

——因为呵，在这世间，

无论是喜悦或悲伤都会溜走：

我们的明日从不再象昨天，

唉，除了“无常”，

雪莱《致云雀》原文经典翻译 篇3

Bird thou never wert，

That from Heaven, or near it，

Pourest thy full heart，

In profuse strains of unpremeditated art。

Higher still and higher，

From the earth thou springest，

Like a cloud of fire;

The blue deep thou wingest，

And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest。

In the golden lightning，

Of the sunken sun，

O‘er which clouds are bright’ning，

Thou dost float and run，

Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun。

The pale purple even，

Melts around thy flight;

Like a star of Heaven，

In the broad daylight，

Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight;

Keen as are the arrows，

Of that silver sphere，

Whose intense lamp narrows，

In the white dawn clear，

Until we hardly see--we feel that it is there。

All the earth and air，

With thy voice is loud。

As，when night is bare。

From one lonely cloud，

The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed。

What thou art we know not;

What is most like thee?

From rainbow clouds there flow not，

Drops so bright to see，

As from thy presence showers a rain of melody。

Like a poet hidden，

In the light of thought，

Singing hymns unbidden，

Till the world is wrought，

To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not;

Like a high-born maiden，

In a palace tower，

Soothing her love-laden，

Soul in secret hour，

With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower;

Like a glow-worm golden，

In a dell of dew，

Scattering unbeholden，

Its aerial hue。

Like a rose embowered，

In its own green leaves，

By warm winds deflowered，

Till the scent it gives，

Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged thieves。

Sound of vernal showers，

On the twinkling grass，

Rain-awakened flowers，

All that ever was，

Joyous， and clear，and fresh，thy music doth surpass。.

Teach us，sprite or bird，

What sweet thoughts are thine，

I have never heard，

Praise of love or wine，

That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine。

Chorus hymeneal，

Or triumphal chaunt，

Matched with thine, would be all，

But an empty vaunt，

A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want。

What objects are the fountains，

Of thy happy strain?

What fields, or waves, or mountains?

What shapes of sky or plain?

What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain?

With thy clear keen joyance，

Languor cannot be，

Shadow of annoyance，

Never came near thee。

Thou lovest，but ne’er knew love’s sad satiety。

Waking or asleep，

Thou of death must deem，

Things more true and deep，

Than we mortals dream，

Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream?

We look before and after，

And pine for what is not，

Our sincerest laughter，

With some pain is fraught;

Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought。

Yet if we could scorn，

Hate ，and pride，and fear;

If we were things born，

Not to shed a tear，

I know not how thy joy we ever should come near。

Better than all measures，

Of delightful sound，

Better than all treasures，

That in books are found，

Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!

Teach me half the gladness，

That thy brain must know，

Such harmonious madness，

From my lips would flow，