为您找到与英文版的诗歌相关的共200个结果:
英语诗歌往往寄托着作者浓烈的情感,有些诗歌既励志,又激昂,今天读文网小编在这里为大家介绍一些中英文版励志英语诗歌,希望大家会喜欢这些英语诗歌!
------ Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked 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.
没有走过的路
罗伯特·弗罗斯特 陈采霞译
金色的树林路分两条,
遗憾不能两条都到。
孤独的我长久伫立,
极日眺望其中一条,
直到它在灌丛中淹没掉。
然后我公平地选择了另外一条,
或许理由更加充分,
因为它草深需要有人上去走走。
说到有多少人从上面走过
两条路磨损得还真是差不多。
而且那天早晨两条路都静静地躺着,
覆盖在上面的树叶都没有被踩黑,
噢,我把第一条路留给了下一次!
但我知道前方的路变幻莫测,
我怀疑我是否应该回来……
多年以后在某个地方,
我将叹息着讲述这件事:
树林里路分两条,而我——
选择了行人较少的那条,
就这样一切便发生了改变。
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经典爱情诗歌1
To forgive is not to forget, nor remit, but let it go;
to be lonely is not because you have no friends, but no one is living in your heart.
宽恕、原谅并不代表忘记,也不代表赦免,而是放自己一条生路。
孤单不是有没有朋友,而是有没有人住在你心里。
The worst way to miss someone is to be
sitting right beside them knowing you can't have them.
失去某人,最糟糕的莫过于,他近在身旁,却犹如远在天边。
To keep someone around you is not love; love is to let the one you love go freely.
不是把对方留在自己身边才叫爱,能放手让所爱的人离开,也是爱的一种。
During the whole life, you will regret for two things:
one is that you don't get the one you love and the other is the one you love is not happy.
人的一生,有两种遗憾最折磨人:一是得不到你心爱的人;二是心爱的人得不到幸福。
Don't cry because it is over, smile because it happened.
不要因为结束而哭泣,微笑吧,为你的曾经拥有。
Never expect the perfect man,
it's not because that you cannot find, but just because there is no perfect man.
不要期待完美的男人,不是因为你期待不到,而是根本没有完美的男人。
An unacceptable love needs no sorrow but sometime for forgetting.
A badly-hurt heart needs no sympathy but understanding.
一段不被接受的爱情,需要的不是伤心,而是时间,一段可以用来遗忘的时间。
一颗被深深伤了的心,需要的不是同情,而是明白。
I love you not because of who you are, but because of who I am when I am with you.
我爱你,不是因为你是一个怎样的人,而是因为我喜欢与你在一起时的感觉。
No man or woman is worth your tears, and the one who is, won't make you cry.
没有人值得让你为他/她流泪,值得让你这么做的人不会让你哭泣。
It's often said that you will have the same life as the person you find.
Therefore, different choices make different endings.
人们说,找到了什么样的人就有了什么样的生活,于是不同的选择,就有不同的童话结尾。
经典爱情诗歌2
The so-called turning-around is that you not only miss
the sun in day time but also the stars at night.
所谓的回头,只不过是丢掉了白天的太阳之后,又错过了夜晚的星星。
Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to,
doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have.
爱你的人如果没有按你所希望的方式来爱你,那并不代表他们没有全心全意地爱你。
Good love makes you see the whole world from one person
while bad love makes you abandon the whole world for one person.
好的爱情是你通过一个人看到整个世界,坏的爱情是你为了一个人舍弃世界。
Sometimes, I just wonder, we are from different waters,
although I admire your world, I will be drowned if I get close to you.
有时候我会想,我们是不同水域的动物,
虽然我很羡慕你那个世界的美丽,但是浅水区的我一走近,就会被深水淹死。
Why to ask so much when you are in love?
The mature never ask the past,
the wise never ask the present
and the open-minded never ask the future.
爱,又何必多问?成熟的人不问过去,聪明的人不问现在,豁达的人不问未来。
The key for happiness is not to find a perfect person,
but find someone and build a perfect relationship with him.
幸福的关键不在于找到一个完美的人,
而在找到一个人,然后和他一起努力建立一个完美的关系。
If you leave me, please don't comfort me
because each sewing has to meet stinging pain.
离开我就别安慰我,要知道每一次缝补也会遭遇穿刺的痛。
The most special feeling of human is the one-sided love. That's the unique.
You would never see a cat loving another cat in secret.
人类的感情最特别的就是单恋,那是绝无仅有的。
你绝不会看到一只猫,会偷偷地喜欢上另一只猫。
The love world is big, which can hold hundreds of disappointments;
the love world is small which is crowded even with three people inside.
原来爱情的世界很大,大到可以装下上百种委屈;
原来爱情的世界很小,小到三个人就挤到窒息。
经典爱情诗歌3
To forgive is not to forget, nor remit, but let it go;
to be lonely is not because you have no friends, but no one is living in your heart.
宽恕、原谅并不代表忘记,也不代表赦免,而是放自己一条生路。
孤单不是有没有朋友,而是有没有人住在你心里。
The worst way to miss someone is to be
sitting right beside them knowing you can't have them.
失去某人,最糟糕的莫过于,他近在身旁,却犹如远在天边。
To keep someone around you is not love; love is to let the one you love go freely.
不是把对方留在自己身边才叫爱,能放手让所爱的人离开,也是爱的一种。
During the whole life, you will regret for two things:
one is that you don't get the one you love and the other is the one you love is not happy.
人的一生,有两种遗憾最折磨人:一是得不到你心爱的人;二是心爱的人得不到幸福。
Don't cry because it is over, smile because it happened.
不要因为结束而哭泣,微笑吧,为你的曾经拥有。
Never expect the perfect man,
it's not because that you cannot find, but just because there is no perfect man.
不要期待完美的男人,不是因为你期待不到,而是根本没有完美的男人。
An unacceptable love needs no sorrow but sometime for forgetting.
A badly-hurt heart needs no sympathy but understanding.
一段不被接受的爱情,需要的不是伤心,而是时间,一段可以用来遗忘的时间。
一颗被深深伤了的心,需要的不是同情,而是明白。
I love you not because of who you are, but because of who I am when I am with you.
我爱你,不是因为你是一个怎样的人,而是因为我喜欢与你在一起时的感觉。
No man or woman is worth your tears, and the one who is, won't make you cry.
没有人值得让你为他/她流泪,值得让你这么做的人不会让你哭泣。
It's often said that you will have the same life as the person you find.
Therefore, different choices make different endings.
人们说,找到了什么样的人就有了什么样的生活,于是不同的选择,就有不同的童话结尾。
经典爱情诗歌4
Sometimes you need to look back,
otherwise you will never know what you have lost in the way of forever searching.
偶尔要回头看看,否则永远都在追寻,而不知道自己失去了什么。
Most of people are looking forward the crystal-like love—pure without any defect.
However the truth is most people are having the glass-like love.
许多人向往水晶般的爱情,晶莹剔透没有瑕疵。但更多人拥有的是玻璃般的爱情。
The one you love also loves you. This is a miracle.
And the god names this as falling in love with each other.
自己爱的人同时也爱着自己,这简直是一种奇迹,
神明为这种奇迹取了一个名字,叫做恋爱。
How it feels when you are loved by the one you love? How could it be like?
If you want to answer it immediately, you shall know how happy you are.
被自己所爱的人深爱着是什么样的感觉呢?会是什么样子呢?
想要立刻回答的人,你要知道自己是多么幸福。
Hope and trust is the tail of a lizard, which can reproduce even after being cut off.
希望和信任是蜥蜴的尾巴,即使被切断,但它们还会再长出来。
Do you think that the sourest feeling is to be jealous?
No, the sourest thing is that you have no rights to be jealous.
That's the sourest thing.
你以为最酸的感觉是吃醋吗?不是的,最酸溜溜的感觉是没权吃醋,
根本就轮不到你吃醋,那才是…
To lost in something you love is better than to win in something you hate.
宁可失败在你喜欢的事情上,也不要成功在你所憎恶的事情上。
When every love comes to the end, if you look back,
you will find flowers and sorrows, but it's always beautiful.
每段爱情在走向终结时,倒带回去,
一路上或花草鲜美,或落英缤纷,而最初总是倾心的。
I know that love shall not be compared, but I still used to complaining what he is lack of.
我知道感情不能拿来比较,但无意中还是习惯抱怨他所缺少的。
Never frown, even when you are sad,
because you never know who is falling in love with your smile.
纵然伤心,也不要愁眉不展,因为你不知是谁会爱上你的笑容。
Love is an impossible meeting.
For example, I am a bird flying in sky,
you are a leopard in forest. We just fall in love accidentally.
缘分是不可能的相遇。比如我是空中的鸟,你是林中的豹,只是我们碰巧相爱。
When someone abandons you, it is him that gets loss
because he lost someone who truly loves him
but you just lost one who doesn't love you.
当你认为被抛弃的时候,受损失的其实是对方:
因为他失去了一个真正喜欢他的人,而你只不过少了一个不喜欢你…
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In the east of the world, there is a land of ancient, beautiful and broad,
In the east of the world, there is a great nation, strong and hard-working;
Pentium is always flooded with the Yellow River is her blood,
Mount Tai is a towering stand of her spine,
This is our motherland - China!
In 1949, a man waved Jubi, an announcement that China had 5,000 years to disperse the haze;
In 1978, a giant with superhuman courage, size up the situation, the dust-laden country will be open to the world!
In 1997, she ushered in Bauhinia fragrance,
In 1999, she has been added to the water of the lotus fragrance!
Century through the wind and rain, the Great Wall as the dragon in the clouds shuttle,
Over the long river of time, the eagle proudly as Mount Everest the world's highest slope.
Our Republic does not like this from the mighty powerful
《祖国颂》朗诵稿
在世界的东方,有一个古老的国度,美丽而宽广,
在世界的东方,有一个伟大的民族,勤劳而坚强;
奔腾不息的黄河是她的血脉,
巍峨屹立的泰山是她的脊梁,
这就是我们的祖国——中国!
1949年,一位伟人挥动着巨臂,一声宣告,驱散了神州五千年的阴霾;
1978年,一位巨人以超人的胆识,审时度势,将尘封的国门向世界洞开!
1997年,她迎来了紫荆花的清香,
1999年,她又增添了水莲花的芬芳!
走过世纪的风雨,万里长城像巨龙在云中穿梭,
跨过岁月的长河,珠穆朗玛峰像雄鹰傲立世界最高坡。
我们的共和国从没有像今天这样威武强大,
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《友谊地久天长》是一首非常有名的的歌曲,相信很多人都有听过。今天读文网小编为大家带来《友谊地久天长》英文版,希望大家喜欢!
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind ?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and old lang syne ?
For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne. And surely you’ll buy your pint cup !
and surely I’ll buy mine !
And we'll take a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
We two have run about the slopes,
and picked the daisies fine ;
But we’ve wandered many a weary foot,
since auld lang syne.
We two have paddled in the stream,
from morning sun till dine ;
But seas between us broad have roared
since auld lang syne.
And there’s a hand my trusty friend !
And give us a hand o’ thine !
And we’ll take a right good-will draught,
for auld lang syne..
心中能不怀想
旧日朋友岂能相忘
友谊地久天长
我们曾经终日游荡
在故乡的青山上
我们也曾历尽苦辛
到处奔波流浪
我们也曾终日消遥
荡桨在碧波上
但如今却劳燕分飞
远隔大海重洋
我们往日情意相投
让我们紧握手
我们来举杯畅饮
友谊地久天长
友谊万岁
友谊万岁
举杯痛饮
同声歌颂友谊地久天长
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英文诗歌是最好的英语晨读材料,只要坚持每天英语晨读,相信你的英语水平一定会有很大的提升。下面是读文网小编为大家带来晨读优美英文诗歌,希望大家喜欢!
Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws,
饕餮的时间呵,磨钝雄狮的利爪吧,
And make the earth devour her own sweet brood;
你教土地把自己的爱子吞掉吧;
Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws,
你从猛虎嘴巴里拔下尖牙吧,
And burn the long-lived phoenix in her blood;
教长命凤凰在自己的血中燃烧吧;特别第四行
Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleets,
你飞着把季节弄得时悲时喜吧,
And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time,
飞毛腿时间呵,你把这广大的世间
To the wide world and all her fading sweets;
和一切可爱的东西,任意处理吧;
But I forbid thee one most heinous crime,
但是我禁止你一桩最凶的罪愆:特别第八行
O, carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow,
你别一刀刀镌刻我爱人的美额,
Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen.
别用亘古的画笔在那儿画条纹;
Him in thy course untainted do allow,
允许他在你的过程中不染杂色,
For beauty's pattern to succeeding men.
给人类后代留一个美的准绳。特别第十二行
Yet do thy worst, old Time; despite thy wrong,
但是,时光老头子,不怕你狠毒:
My love shall in my verse ever live young.
我爱人会在我诗中把青春永驻。
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《安妮日记》是安妮·弗兰克遇难前两年藏身密室时写下的生活和情感的记录。今天读文网小编为大家带来安妮日记英文版摘抄,欢迎大家阅读!
MONDAY, JUNE 15, 1942
I had my birthday party on Sunday afternoon. The Rin Tin Tin movie was a big hit with my classmates. I got two brooches, a bookmark and two books. I'll start by saying a few things about my school and my class, beginning with the students.
Betty Bloemendaal looks kind of poor, and I think she probably is. She lives on some obscure street in West Amsterdam, and none of us know where it is. She does very well at school, but that's because she works so hard, not because she's so smart. She's pretty quiet.
Jacqueline van Maarsen is supposedly my best friend, but I've never had a real friend. At first I thought Jacque would be one, but I was badly mistaken.
D.Q.* [* Initials have been assigned at random to those persons who prefer to remain anonymous.] is a very nervous girl who's always forgetting things, so the teachers keep assigning her extra homework as punishment. She's very kind, especially to G.Z.
E.S. talks so much it isn't funny. She's always touching your hair or fiddling with your buttons when she asks you something. They say she can't stand me, but I don't care, since I don't like her much either.
Henny Mets is a nice girl with a cheerful disposition, except that she talks in a loud voice and is really childish when we're playing outdoors. Unfortunately, Henny has a girlfriend named Beppy who's a bad influence on her because she's dirty and vulgar.
J.R. - I could write a whole book about her. J. is a detestable, sneaky, stuck-up, two-faced gossip who thinks she's so grown-up. She's really got Jacque under her spell, and that's a shame. J. is easily offended, bursts into tears at the slightest thing and, to top it all off, is a terrible show-off. Miss J. always has to be right. She's very rich, and has a closet full of the most adorable dresses that are way too old for her. She thinks she's gorgeous, but she's not. J. and I can't stand each other.
Ilse Wagner is a nice girl with a cheerful disposition, but she's extremely fInicky and can spend hours moaning and groaning about something. Ilse likes me a lot. She's very smart, but lazy.
Hanneli Goslar, or Lies as she's called at school, is a bit on the strange side. She's usually shy -- outspoken at horne, but reserved around other people. She blabs whatever you tell her to her mother. But she says what she thinks, and lately I've corne to appreciate her a great deal.
Nannie van Praag-Sigaar is small, funny and sensible. I think she's nice. She's pretty smart. There isn't much else you can say about Nannie. Eefje de Jong is, in my opinion, terrific. Though she's only twelve, she's quite the lady. She acts as if I were a baby. She's also very helpful, and I like her.
G.Z. is the prettiest girl in our class. She has a nice face, but is kind of dumb. I think they're going to hold her back a year, but of course I haven't told her that.
COMMENT ADDED BY ANNE AT A LATER DATE: To my areat surprise, G.Z. wasn't held back a year after all.
And sitting next to G.Z. is the last of us twelve girls, me.
There's a lot to be said about the boys, or maybe not so much after all.
Maurice Coster is one of my many admirers, but pretty much of a pest. Sallie Springer has a filthy mind, and rumor has it that he's gone all the way. Still, I think he's terrific, because he's very funny.
Emiel Bonewit is G.Z.'s admirer, but she doesn't care. He's pretty boring. Rob Cohen used to be in love with me too, but I can't stand him anymore. He's an obnoxious, two-faced, lying, sniveling little goof who has an awfully high opinion of himself.
Max van de Velde is a farm boy from Medemblik, but eminently suitable, as Margot would say.
Herman Koopman also has a filthy mind, just like Jopie de Beer, who's a terrible flirt and absolutely girl-crazy.
Leo Blom is Jopie de Beer's best friend, but has been ruined by his dirty mind.
Albert de Mesquita came from the Montessori School and skipped a grade. He's really smart.
Leo Slager came from the same school, but isn't as smart.
Ru Stoppelmon is a short, goofy boy from Almelo who transferred to this school in the middle of the year.
C.N. does whatever he's not supposed to.
Jacques Kocernoot sits behind us, next to C., and we (G. and I) laugh ourselves silly.
Harry Schaap is the most decent boy in our class. He's nice.
Werner Joseph is nice too, but all the changes taking place lately have made him too quiet, so he seems boring. Sam Salomon is one of those tough guys from across the tracks. A real brat. (Admirer!)
Appie Riem is pretty Orthodox, but a brat too.
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《假如给我三天光明》是作者海伦·凯勒的自传,被誉为“世界文学史上无与伦比的杰作”。她以自己的经历告诫人们应珍惜生命,珍惜造物主赐予的一切。如果你想欣赏一下这篇经典名作的话,那么就不要错过下面读文网小编为大家带来假如给我三天光明完整英文版及中文翻译,希望大家喜欢!
All of us have read thrilling stories in which the hero had only a limited and specified time to live. Sometimes it was as long as a year; sometimes as short as twenty-four hours.
But always we were interested in discovering just how the doomed man chose to spend his last days or his last hours. I speak, of course, of free men who have a choice, not condemned criminals whose sphere of activities is strictly delimited.
Such stories set us thinking, wondering what we should do under similar circumstances. What events, what experiences, what associations should we crowd into those last hours as mortal beings? What happiness should we find in reviewing the past, what regrets?
Sometimes I have thought it would be an excellent rule to live each day as if we should die tomorrow. Such an attitude would emphasize sharply the values of life. We should live each day with a gentleness, a vigor, and a keenness of appreciation which are often lost when time stretches before us in the constant panorama of more days and months and years to come. There are those, of course, who would adopt the Epicurean motto of "Eat, drink, and be merry," but most people would be chastened by the certainty of impending death.
In stories the doomed hero is usually saved at the last minute by some stroke of fortune, but almost always his sense of values is changed. he becomes more appreciative of the meaning of life and its permanent spiritual values. It ahs often been noted that those who live, or have lived, in the shadow of death bring a mellow sweetness to everything they do.
Most of us, however, take life for granted. We know that one day we must die, but usually we picture that day as far in the future. When we are in buoyant health, death is all but unimaginable. We seldom think of it. The days stretch out in an endless vista. So we go about our petty tasks, hardly aware of our listless attitude toward life.
The same lethargy, I am afraid, characterizes the use of all our faculties and senses. Only the deaf appreciate hearing, only the blind realize the manifold blessings that lie in sight. Particularly does this observation apply to those who have lost sight and hearing in adult life. But those who have never suffered impairment of sight or hearing seldom make the fullest use of these blessed faculties. Their eyes and ears take in all sights and sounds hazily, without concentration and with little appreciation. It is the same old story of not being grateful for what we have until we lose it, of not being conscious of health until we are ill.
I have often thought it would be a blessing if each human being were stricken blind and deaf for a few days at some time during his early adult life. Darkness would make him more appreciative of sight; silence would tech him the joys of sound.
Now and them I have tested my seeing friends to discover what they see. Recently I was visited by a very good friends who hadjust returned from a long walk in the woods, and I asked her what she had observed.. "Nothing in particular, " she replied. I might have been incredulous had I not been accustomed to such reposes, for long ago I became convinced that the seeing see little.
How was it possible, I asked myself, to walk for an hour through the woods and see nothing worthy of note? I who cannot see find hundreds of things to interest me through mere touch. I feel the delicate symmetry of a leaf. I pass my hands lovingly about the smooth skin of a silver birch, or the rough, shaggy bark of a pine. In the spring I touch the branches of trees hopefully in search of a bud the first sign of awakening Nature after her winter's sleep. I feel the delightful, velvety texture of a flower, and discover its remarkable convolutions; and something of the miracle of Nature is revealed to me. Occasionally, if I am very fortunate, I place my hand gently on a small tree and feel the happy quiver of a bird in full song. I am delighted to have the cool waters of a brook rush thought my open finger. To me a lush carpet of pine needles or spongy grass is more welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug. To me the page ant of seasons is a thrilling and unending drama, the action of which streams through my finger tips.
At times my heart cries out with longing to see all these things. If I can get so much pleasure from mere touch, how much more beauty must be revealed by sight. Yet, those who have eyes apparently see little. the panorama of color and action which fills the world is taken for granted. It is human, perhaps, to appreciate little that which we have and to long for that which we have not, but it is a great pity that in the world of light the gift of sight is used only as a mere conveniences rather than as a means of adding fullness to life.
If I were the president of a university I should establish a compulsory course in "How to Use Your Eyes". The professor would try to show his pupils how they could add joy to their lives by really seeing what passes unnoticed before them. He would try to awake their dormant and sluggish faculties.
Perhaps I can best illustrate by imagining what I should most like to see if I were given the use of my eyes, say, for just three days. And while I am imagining, suppose you, too, set your mind to work on the problem of how you would use your own eyes if you had only three more days to see. If with the on-coming darkness of the third night you knew that the sun would never rise for you again, how would you spend those three precious intervening days? What would you most want to let your gaze rest upon?
I, naturally, should want most to see the things which have become dear to me through my years of darkness. You, too, would want to let your eyes rest on the things that have become dear to you so that you could take the memory of them with you into the night that loomed before you.
If, by some miracle, I were granted three seeing days, to be followed by a relapse into darkness, I should divide the period into three parts.
The First Day
On the first day, I should want to see the people whose kindness and gentleness and companionship have made my life worth living. First I should like to gaze long upon the face of my dear teacher, Mrs. Anne Sullivan Macy, who came to me when I was a child and opened the outer world to me. I should want not merely to see the outline of her face, so that I could cherish it in my memory, but to study that face and find in it the living evidence of the sympathetic tenderness and patience with which she accomplished the difficult task of my education. I should like to see in her eyes that strength of character which has enabled her to stand firm in the face of difficulties, and that compassion for all humanity which she has revealed to me so often.
I do not know what it is to see into the heart of a friend through that "Window of the soul", the eye. I can only "see" through my finger tips the outline of a face. I can detect laughter, sorrow, and many other obvious emotions. I know my friends from the feel of their faces. But I cannot really picture their personalities by touch. I know their personalities, of course, through other means, through the thoughts they express to me, through whatever of their actions are revealed to me. But I am denied that deeper understanding of them which I am sure would come through sight of them, through watching their reactions to various expressed thoughts and circumstances, through noting the immediate and fleeting reactions of their eyes and countenance.
Friends who are near to me I know well, because through the months and years they reveal themselves to me in all their phases; but of casual friends I have only an incomplete impression, an impression gained from a handclasp, from spoken words which I take from their lips with my finger tips, or which they tap into the palm of my hand.
How much easier, how much more satisfying it is for you who can see to grasp quickly the essential qualities of another person by watching the subtleties of expression, the quiver of a muscle, the flutter of a hand. But does it ever occur to you to use your sight to see into the inner nature of a friends or acquaintance/ Do not most of you seeing people grasp casually the outward features of a face and let it go at that?
For instance can you describe accurately the faces of five good friends? some of you can, but many cannot. As an experiment, I have questioned husbands of long standing about the color of their wives' eyes, and often they express embarrassed confusion and admit that they do not know. And, incidentally, it is a chronic complaint of wives that their husbandsdo not notice new dresses, new hats, and changes in household arrangements.
The eyes of seeing persons soon become accustomed to the routine of their surroundings, and they actually see only the startling and spectacular. But even in viewing the most spectacular sights the eyes are lazy. Court records reveal every day how inaccurately "eyewitnesses" see. A given event will be "seen" in several different ways by as many witnesses. Some see more than others, but few see everything that is within the range of their vision.
Oh, the things that I should see if I had the power of sight for just three days!
The first day would be a busy one.
I should call to me all my dear friends and look long into their faces, imprinting upon my mind the outward evidences of the beauty that is within them. I should let my eyes rest, too, on the face of a baby, so that I could catch a vision of the eager, innocent beauty which precedes the individual's consciousness of the conflicts which life develops.
And I should like to look into the loyal, trusting eyes of my dogs - the grave, canny little Scottie, Darkie, and the stalwart, understanding Great Dane, Helga, whose warm, tender , and playful friendships are so comforting to me.
On that busy first day I should also view the small simple things of my home. I want to see the warm colors in the rugs under my feet, the pictures on the walls, the intimate trifles that transform a house into home. My eyes would rest respectfully on the books in raised type which I have read, but they would be more eagerly interested in the printed books which seeing people can read, for during the long night of my life the books I have read and those which have been read to me have built themselves into a great shining lighthouse, revealing to me the deepest channels of human life and the human spirit.
In the afternoon of that first seeing day. I should take a long walk in the woods and intoxicate my eyes on the beauties of the world of Nature trying desperately to absorb in a few hours the vast splendor which is constantly unfolding itself to those who can see. On the way home from my woodland jaunt my path would lie near a farm so that I might see the patient horses ploughing in the field 9perhaps I should see only a tractor!) and the serene content of men living close to the soil. And I should pray for the glory of a colorful sunset.
When dusk had fallen, I should experience the double delight of being able to see by artificial light which the genius of man has created to extend the power of his sight when Nature decrees darkness.
In the night of that first day of sight, I should not be able to sleep, so full would be my mind of the memories of the day.
The Second Day
The next day - the second day of sight - I should arisewith the dawn and see the thrilling miracle by which night is transformed into day. I should behold with awe the magnificent panorama of light with which the sun awakens the sleeping earth.
This day I should devote to a hasty glimpse of the world, past and present. I should want to see the pageant of man's progress, the kaleidoscope of the ages. How can so much be compressed into one day? Through the museums, of course. Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, butI have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there - animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentations of the processes of development in animals, in man, and in the implements which man has used to fashion for himself a secure home on this planet; and a thousand and one other aspects of natural history.
I wonder how many readers of this article have viewed this panorama of the face of living things as pictured in that inspiring museum. Many, of course, have not had the opportunity, but I am sure that many who have had the opportunity have not made use of it. there, indeed, is a place to use your eyes. You who see can spend many fruitful days there, but I with my imaginary three days of sight, could only take a hasty glimpse, and pass on.
My next stop would be the Metropolitan Museum of Art, for just as the Museum of Natural History reveals the material aspects of the world, so does the Metropolitan show the myriad facets of the human spirit. Throughout the history of humanity the urge to artistic expression has been almost as powerful as the urge for food, shelter, and procreation. And here , in the vast chambers of the Metropolitan Museum, is unfolded before me the spirit of Egypt, Greece, and Rome, as expressed in their art. I know well through my hands the sculptured gods and goddesses of the ancient Nile-land. I have felt copies of Parthenon friezes, and I have sensed the rhythmic beauty of charging Athenian warriors. Apollos and Venuses and the Winged Victory of Samothrace are friends of my finger tips. The gnarled, bearded features of Homer are dear to me, for he, too, knew blindness.
My hands have lingered upon the living marble of roman sculpture as well as that of later generations. I have passed my hands over a plaster cast of Michelangelo's inspiring and heroic Moses; I have sensed the power of Rodin; I have been awed by the devoted spirit of Gothic wood carving. These arts which can be touched have meaning for me, but even they were meant to be
seen rather than felt, and I can only guess at the beauty which remains hidden from me. I can admire the simple lines of a Greek vase, but its figured decorations are lost to me.
So on this, my second day of sight, I should try to probe into the soul of man through this art. The things I knew through touch I should now see. More splendid still, the whole magnificent world of painting would be opened to me, from the Italian Primitives, with their serene religious devotion, to the Moderns, with their feverish visions. I should look deep into the canvases of Raphael, Leonardo da Vinci, Titian, Rembrandt. I should want to feast my eyes upon the warm colors of Veronese, study the mysteries of E1 Greco, catch a new vision of Nature from Corot. Oh, there is so much rich meaning and beauty in the art of the ages for you who have eyes to see!
Upon my short visit to this temple of art I should not be able to review a fraction of that great world of art which is open to you. I should be able to get only a superficial impression. Artists tell me that fordeep and true appreciation of art one must educated the eye. One must learn through experience to weigh the merits of line, of composition, of form and color. If I had eyes, how happily would I embark upon so fascinating a study! Yet I am told that, to many of you who have eyes to see, the world of art is a dark night,unexplored and unilluminated.
It would be with extreme reluctance that I should leave the Metropolitan Museum, which contains the key to beauty -- a beauty so neglected. Seeing persons, however, do not need a metropolitan to find this key to beauty. The same key lies waiting in smaller museums, and in books on the shelves of even small libraries. But naturally, in my limited time of imaginary sight, I should choose the place where the key unlocks the greatest treasures in the shortest time.
The evening of my second day of sight I should spend at a theatre or at the movies. Even now I often attend theatrical performances of all sorts, but the action of the play must be spelled into my hand by a companion. But how I should like to see with my own eyes the fascinating figure of Hamlet, or the gusty Falstaff amid colorful Elizabethan trappings! How I should like to follow each movement of the graceful Hamlet, each strut of the hearty Falstaff! And since I could see only one play, I should be confronted by a many-horned dilemma, for there are scores of plays I should want to see. You who have eyes can see any you like. How many of you, I wonder, when you gaze at a play, a movie, or any spectacle, realize and give thanks for the miracle of sight which enables you to enjoy its color , grace, and movement?
I cannot enjoy the beauty of rhythmic movement except in a sphere restricted to the touch of my hands. I can vision only dimly the grace of a Pavlowa, although I know something of the delight of rhythm, for often I can sense the beat of music as it vibrates through the floor. I can well imagine that cadenced motion must be one of the most pleasing sights in the world. I have been able to gather something of this by tracing with my fingers the lines in sculptured marble; if this static grace can be so lovely, how much more acute must be the thrill of seeing grace in motion.
One of my dearest memories is of the time when Joseph Jefferson allowed me to touch his face and hands as he went through some of the gestures and speeches of his beloved Rip Van Winkle. I was able to catch thus a meager glimpse of the world of drama, and I shall never forget the delight of that moment. But, oh, how much I must miss, and how much pleasure you seeing ones can derive from watching and hearing the interplay of speech and movement in the unfolding of a dramatic performance! If I could see only one play, I should know how to picture in mymind the action of a hundred plays which I have read or had transferred to me through the medium of the manual alphabet.
So, through the evening of my second imaginary day of sight, the great fingers of dramatic literature would crowd sleep from my eyes.
The Third Day
The following morning, I should again greet the dawn, anxious to discover new delights, for I am sure that, for those who have eyes which really see, the dawn of each day must be a perpetually new revelation of beauty.
This, according to the terms of my imagined miracle, is to be my third and last day of sight. I shall have no time to waste in regrets or longings; there is too much to see. The first day I devoted to my friends, animate and inanimate. The second revealed to me the history of man and Nature. Today I shall spend in the workaday world of the present, amid the haunts of men going about the business of life. And where can one find so many activities and conditions of men as in New York? So the city becomes my destination.
I start from my home in the quiet little suburb of Forest Hills, Long Island. Here , surrounded by green lawns, trees, and flowers, are neat little houses, happy with the voices and movements of wives and children, havens of peaceful rest for men who toil in the city. I drive across the lacy structure of steel which spans the East River, and I get a new and startling vision of the power and ingenuity of the mind of man. Busy boasts chug and scurry about the river - racy speed boat, stolid, snorting tugs. If I had long days of sight ahead, I should spend many of them watching the delightful activity upon the river.
I look ahead, and before me rise the fantastic towers of New York, a city that seems to have stepped from the pages of a fairy story. What an awe-inspiring sight, these glittering spires. these vast banks of stone and steel-structures such as the gods might build for themselves! This animated picture is a part of the lives of millions of people every day.
How many, I wonder, give it so much as a seconds glance? Very few, I fear, Their eyes are blind to this magnificent sight because it is so familiar to them.
I hurry to the top of one of those gigantic structures, the Empire State Building, for there , a short time ago, I "saw" the city below through the eyes of my secretary. I am anxious to compare my fancy with reality. I am sure I should not be disappointed in the panorama spread out before me, for to me it would be a vision of another world.
Now I begin my rounds of the city. First, I stand at a busy corner, merely looking at people, trying by sight of them to understand something of their live. I see smiles, and I am happy. I see serious determination, and I am proud, I see suffering, and I am compassionate.
I stroll down Fifth Avenue. I throw my eyes out of focus, so that I see no particular object but only a seething kaleidoscope of colors. I am certain that the colors of women's dresses moving in a throng must be a gorgeous spectacle of which I should never tire. But perhaps if I had sight I should be like most other women -- too interested in styles and the cut of individual dresses to give much attention to the splendor of color in the mass. And I am convinced, too, that I should become an inveterate window shopper, for it must be a delight to the eye to view the myriad articles of beauty on display.
From Fifth Avenue I make a tour of the city-to Park Avenue, to the slums, to factories, to parks where children play. I take a stay-at-home trip abroad by visiting the foreign quarters. Always my eyes are open wide to all the sights of both happiness and misery so that I may probe deep and add to my understanding of how people work and live. my heart is full of the images of people and things. My eye passes lightly over no single trifle; it strives to touch and hold closely each thing its gaze rests upon. Some sights are pleasant, filling the heart with happiness; but some are miserably pathetic. To these latter I do not shut my eyes, for they, too, are part of life. To close the eye on them is to close the heart and mind.
My third day of sight is drawing to an end. Perhaps there are many serious pursuits to which I should devote the few remaining hours, but I am afraid that on the evening of that last day I should again run away to the theater, to a hilariously funny play, so that I might appreciate the overtones of comedy in the human spirit.
At midnight my temporary respite from blindness would cease, and permanent night would close in on me again. Naturally in those three short days I should not have seen all I wanted to see. Only when darkness had again descended upon me should I realize how much I had left unseen. But my mind would be so crowded with glorious memories that I should have little time for regrets. Thereafter the touch of every object would bring a glowing memory of how that object looked.
Perhaps this short outline of how I should spend three days of sight does not agree with the program you would set for yourself if you knew that you were about to be stricken blind. I am, however, sure that if you actually faced that fate your eyes would open to things you had never seen before, storing up memories for the long night ahead. You would use your eyes as never before. Everything you saw would become dear to you. Your eyes would touch and embrace every object that came within your range of vision. Then, at last, you would really see, and a new world of beauty would open itself before you.
I who am blind can give one hint to those who see -- one admonition to those who would make full use of the gift of sight: Use your eyes as if tomorrow you would be stricken blind.
And the same method can be applied to the other senses. Hear the music of voices, the song of a bird, the mighty strains of an orchestra, as if you would be stricken deaf tomorrow.
Touch each object you want to touch as if tomorrow your tactile sense would fail. Smell the perfume of flowers, taste with relish each morsel, as if tomorrow you could never s
mell and taste again. Make the most of every sense: glory in all the facets of pleasure and beauty which the world reveals to you through the several means of contact which Nature provides. But of all the senses, I am sure that sight must be the most delightful.#p#副标题#e#
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小红帽是德国童话作家格林的童话《小红帽》中的人物,故事版本多达一百多个,是如今家户喻晓的经典童话故事,成了不少小朋友最喜欢的睡前故事之一。下面读文网小编为大家带来小红帽童话故事双语版,欢迎大家阅读。
Once upon a time there was a sweet little girl. Everyone who saw her liked her, but most of all her grandmother, who did not know what to give the child next. Once she gave her a little cap made of red velvet. Because it suited her so well, and she wanted to wear it all the time, she came to be known as Little Red Cap.
One day her mother said to her, "Come Little Red Cap. Here is a piece of cake and a bottle of wine. Take them to your grandmother. She is sick and weak, and they will do her well. Mind your manners and give her my greetings. Behave yourself on the way, and do not leave the path, or you might fall down and break the glass, and then there will be nothing for your grandmother. And when you enter her parlor, don't forget to say 'Good morning,' and don't peer into all the corners first."
"I'll do everything just right," said Little Red Cap, shaking her mother's hand.
The grandmother lived out in the woods, a half hour from the village. When Little Red Cap entered the woods a wolf came up to her. She did not know what a wicked animal he was, and was not afraid of him.
"Good day to you, Little Red Cap."
"Thank you, wolf."
"Where are you going so early, Little Red Cap?"
"To grandmother's."
"And what are you carrying under your apron?"
"Grandmother is sick and weak, and I am taking her some cake and wine. We baked yesterday, and they should be good for her and give her strength."
"Little Red Cap, just where does your grandmother live?"
"Her house is good quarter hour from here in the woods, under the three large oak trees. There's a hedge of hazel bushes there. You must know the place," said Little Red Cap.
The wolf thought to himself, "Now that sweet young thing is a tasty bite for me. She will taste even better than the old woman. You must be sly, and you can catch them both."
He walked along a little while with Little Red Cap, then he said, "Little Red Cap, just look at the beautiful flowers that are all around us. Why don't you go and take a look? And I don't believe you can hear how beautifully the birds are singing. You are walking along as though you were on your way to school. It is very beautiful in the woods."
Little Red Cap opened her eyes and when she saw the sunbeams dancing to and fro through the trees and how the ground was covered with beautiful flowers, she thought, "If a take a fresh bouquet to grandmother, she will be very pleased. Anyway, it is still early, and I'll be home on time." And she ran off the path into the woods looking for flowers. Each time she picked one she thought that she could see an even more beautiful one a little way off, and she ran after it, going further and further into the woods. But the wolf ran straight to the grandmother's house and knocked on the door.
"Who's there?"
"Little Red Cap. I'm bringing you some cake and wine. Open the door."
"Just press the latch," called out the grandmother. "I'm too weak to get up."
The wolf pressed the latch, and the door opened. He stepped inside, went straight to the grandmother's bed, and ate her up. Then he put on her clothes, put her cap on his head, got into her bed, and pulled the curtains shut.
Little Red Cap had run after the flowers. After she had gathered so many that she could not carry any more, she remembered her grandmother, and then continued on her way to her house. She found, to her surprise, that the door was open. She walked into the parlor, and everything looked so strange that she thought, "Oh, my God, why am I so afraid? I usually like it at grandmother's."
She called out, "Good morning!" but received no answer.
Then she went to the bed and pulled back the curtains. Grandmother was lying there with her cap pulled down over her face and looking very strange.
"Oh, grandmother, what big ears you have!"
"All the better to hear you with."
"Oh, grandmother, what big eyes you have!"
"All the better to see you with."
"Oh, grandmother, what big hands you have!"
"All the better to grab you with!"
"Oh, grandmother, what a horribly big mouth you have!"
"All the better to eat you with!"
The wolf had scarcely finished speaking when he jumped from the bed with a single leap and ate up poor Little Red Cap. As soon as the wolf had satisfied his desires, he climbed back into bed, fell asleep, and began to snore very loudly.
A huntsman was just passing by. He thought, "The old woman is snoring so loudly. You had better see if something is wrong with her."
He stepped into the parlor, and when he approached the bed, he saw the wolf lying there. "So here I find you, you old sinner," he said. "I have been hunting for you a long time."
He was about to aim his rifle when it occurred to him that the wolf might have eaten the grandmother, and that she still might be rescued. So instead of shooting, he took a pair of scissors and began to cut open the wolf's belly. After a few cuts he saw the red cap shining through., and after a few more cuts the girl jumped out, crying, "Oh, I was so frightened! It was so dark inside the wolf's body!"
And then the grandmother came out as well, alive but hardly able to breathe. Then Little Red Cap fetched some large stones. She filled the wolf's body with them, and when he woke up and tried to run away, the stones were so heavy that he immediately fell down dead.
The three of them were happy. The huntsman skinned the wolf and went home with the pelt. The grandmother ate the cake and drank the wine that Little Red Cap had brought. And Little Red Cap thought, "As long as I live, I will never leave the path and run off into the woods by myself if mother tells me not to."
They also tell how Little Red Cap was taking some baked things to her grandmother another time, when another wolf spoke to her and wanted her to leave the path. But Little Red Cap took care and went straight to grandmother's. She told her that she had seen the wolf, and that he had wished her a good day, but had stared at her in a wicked manner. "If we hadn't been on a public road, he would have eaten me up," she said.
"Come," said the grandmother. "Let's lock the door, so he can't get in."
Soon afterward the wolf knocked on the door and called out, "Open up, grandmother. It's Little Red Cap, and I'm bringing you some baked things."
They remained silent, and did not open the door. Gray-Head crept around the house several times, and finally jumped onto the roof. He wanted to wait until Little Red Cap went home that evening, then follow her and eat her up in the darkness. But the grandmother saw what he was up to. There was a large stone trough in front of the house.
"Fetch a bucket, Little Red Cap," she said to the child. "Yesterday I cooked some sausage. Carry the water that I boiled them with to the trough." Little Red Cap carried water until the large, large trough was clear full. The smell of sausage arose into the wolf's nose. He sniffed and looked down, stretching his neck so long that he could no longer hold himself, and he began to slide. He slid off the roof, fell into the trough, and drowned. And Little Red Cap returned home happily, and no one harmed her.
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英国的教育体系经过几百年的沿革,相当的完善和复杂,这里就有它的英文版介绍。下面读文网小编为大家带来英国教育体系英文简介,希望对你有所帮助!
英国教育体系总体来说分为三个阶段: 义务教育(Compulsory Education),延续教育(Further Education)和高等教育(Higher Education)。
一、义务教育 (Compulsory Education)
英国的学生从四岁开始接受义务教育,享受全免费的国家福利,学校甚至还提供免费的午餐,所有的家长必须把自己的孩子送到学校读书。小学教育一般持续到11岁,然后进入中学。英国的中学不分初中高中,从中一(Form 1)到中五(Form 5)共五年的时间。
二、延续教育(Further Education)
延续教育是英国教育体系中最有特色也最精彩的部分,它是继小学(Primary)中学(Secondary)教育之后的“第三级教育”(Tertiary)。为进入高等教育或者就业打下基础。也是中国的高中学生留学英国的关键阶段。一般来说接受延续教育的学生介于16和18岁之间。它分为两种体系:学业路线(Academic Route)和职业路线(Vocational Route)。学业路线着重于培养学术研究方面的人才,职业路线则结合社会各层面的职业需要,培养在各种行业中具有专门技能和知识的人才。这两种体系在英国受到同等的重视。
三、高等教育(Higher Education)
顾名思义,高等教育是英国教育体系中的高级阶段,它包括:
本科(Bachelor Degree)
研究生(Master Degree)
博士生(Doctorial Degree)
高级国家文凭(HND-Higher National Diploma)。
高等教育通常都是由大学(University)提供,但许多学院(College)也提供Bachelor和HND课程。
看了英国教育体系英文版介绍这篇文章
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《丑小鸭》是安徒生的经典童话故事之一,写了一只天鹅蛋在鸭群中破壳后,因相貌怪异,让同类鄙弃,历经千辛万苦、重重磨难之后长成了白天鹅。下面读文网小编为大家带来丑小鸭童话故事英文版及翻译,欢迎大家阅读欣赏!
It was so beautiful out on the country, it was summer- the wheat fields were golden, the oats were green, and down among the green meadows the hay was stacked. There the stork minced about on his red legs, clacking away in Egyptian, which was the language his mother had taught him. Round about the field and meadow lands rose vast forests, in which deep lakes lay hidden. Yes, it was indeed lovely out there in the country.
In the midst of the sunshine there stood an old manor house that had a deep moat around it. From the walls of the manor right down to the water's edge great burdock leaves grew, and there were some so tall that little children could stand upright beneath the biggest of them. In this wilderness of leaves, which was as dense as the forests itself, a duck sat on her nest, hatching her ducklings. She was becoming somewhat weary, because sitting is such a dull business and scarcely anyone came to see her. The other ducks would much rather swim in the moat than waddle out and squat under the burdock leaf to gossip with her.
But at last the eggshells began to crack, one after another. "Peep, peep!" said the little things, as they came to life and poked out their heads.
"Quack, quack!" said the duck, and quick as quick can be they all waddled out to have a look at the green world under the leaves. Their mother let them look as much as they pleased, because green is good for the eyes.
"How wide the world is," said all the young ducks, for they certainly had much more room now than they had when they were in their eggshells.
"Do you think this is the whole world?" their mother asked. "Why it extends on and on, clear across to the other side of the garden and right on into the parson's field, though that is further than I have ever been. I do hope you are all hatched," she said as she got up. "No, not quite all. The biggest egg still lies here. How much longer is this going to take? I am really rather tired of it all," she said, but she settled back on her nest.
"Well, how goes it?" asked an old duck who came to pay her a call.
"It takes a long time with that one egg," said the duck on the nest. "It won't crack, but look at the others. They are the cutest little ducklings I've ever seen. They look exactly like their father, the wretch! He hasn't come to see me at all."
"Let's have a look at the egg that won't crack," the old duck said. "It's a turkey egg, and you can take my word for it. I was fooled like that once myself. What trouble and care I had with those turkey children, for I may as well tell you, they are afraid of the water. I simply could not get them into it. I quacked and snapped at them, but it wasn't a bit of use. Let me see the egg. Certainly, it's a turkey egg. Let it lie, and go teach your other children to swim."
"Oh, I'll sit a little longer. I've been at it so long already that I may as well sit here half the summer."
"Suit yourself," said the old duck, and away she waddled.
At last the big egg did crack. "Peep," said the young one, and out he tumbled, but he was so big and ugly.
The duck took a look at him. "That's a frightfully big duckling," she said. "He doesn't look the least like the others. Can he really be a turkey baby? Well, well! I'll soon find out. Into the water he shall go, even if I have to shove him in myself."
Next day the weather was perfectly splendid, and the sun shone down on all the green burdock leaves. The mother duck led her whole family down to the moat. Splash! she took to the water. "Quack, quack," said she, and one duckling after another plunged in. The water went over their heads, but they came up in a flash, and floated to perfection. Their legs worked automatically, and they were all there in the water. Even the big, ugly gray one was swimming along.
"Why, that's no turkey," she said. "See how nicely he uses his legs, and how straight he holds himself. He's my very own son after all, and quite good-looking if you look at him properly. Quack, quack come with me. I'll lead you out into the world and introduce you to the duck yard. But keep close to me so that you won't get stepped on, and watch out for the cat!"
Thus they sallied into the duck yard, where all was in an uproar because two families were fighting over the head of an eel. But the cat got it, after all.
"You see, that's the way of the world." The mother duck licked her bill because she wanted the eel's head for herself. "Stir your legs. Bustle about, and mind that you bend your necks to that old duck over there. She's the noblest of us all, and has Spanish blood in her. That's why she's so fat. See that red rag around her leg? That's a wonderful thing, and the highest distinction a duck can get. It shows that they don't want to lose her, and that she's to have special attention from man and beast. Shake yourselves! Don't turn your toes in. A well-bred duckling turns his toes way out, just as his father and mother do-this way. So then! Now duck your necks and say quack!"
They did as she told them, but the other ducks around them looked on and said right out loud, "See here! Must we have this brood too, just as if there weren't enough of us already? And-fie! what an ugly-looking fellow that duckling is! We won't stand for him." One duck charged up and bit his neck.
"Let him alone," his mother said. "He isn't doing any harm."
"Possibly not," said the duck who bit him, "but he's too big and strange, and therefore he needs a good whacking."
"What nice-looking children you have, Mother," said the old duck with the rag around her leg. "They are all pretty except that one. He didn't come out so well. It's a pity you can't hatch him again."
"That can't be managed, your ladyship," said the mother. "He isn't so handsome, but he's as good as can be, and he swims just as well as the rest, or, I should say, even a little better than they do. I hope his looks will improve with age, and after a while he won't seem so big. He took too long in the egg, and that's why his figure isn't all that it should be." She pinched his neck and preened his feathers. "Moreover, he's a drake, so it won't matter so much. I think he will be quite strong, and I'm sure he will amount to something."
"The other ducklings are pretty enough," said the old duck. "Now make yourselves right at home, and if you find an eel's head you may bring it to me."
So they felt quite at home. But the poor duckling who had been the last one out of his egg, and who looked so ugly, was pecked and pushed about and made fun of by the ducks, and the chickens as well. "He's too big," said they all. The turkey gobbler, who thought himself an emperor because he was born wearing spurs, puffed up like a ship under full sail and bore down upon him, gobbling and gobbling until he was red in the face. The poor duckling did not know where he dared stand or where he dared walk. He was so sad because he was so desperately ugly, and because he was the laughing stock of the whole barnyard.
So it went on the first day, and after that things went from bad to worse. The poor duckling was chased and buffeted about by everyone. Even his own brothers and sisters abused him. "Oh," they would always say, "how we wish the cat would catch you, you ugly thing." And his mother said, "How I do wish you were miles away." The ducks nipped him, and the hens pecked him, and the girl who fed them kicked him with her foot.
So he ran away; and he flew over the fence. The little birds in the bushes darted up in a fright. "That's because I'm so ugly," he thought, and closed his eyes, but he ran on just the same until he reached the great marsh where the wild ducks lived. There he lay all night long, weary and disheartened.
When morning came, the wild ducks flew up to have a look at their new companion. "What sort of creature are you?" they asked, as the duckling turned in all directions, bowing his best to them all. "You are terribly ugly," they told him, "but that's nothing to us so long as you don't marry into our family."
Poor duckling! Marriage certainly had never entered his mind. All he wanted was for them to let him lie among the reeds and drink a little water from the marsh.
There he stayed for two whole days. Then he met two wild geese, or rather wild ganders-for they were males. They had not been out of the shell very long, and that's what made them so sure of themselves.
"Say there, comrade," they said, "you're so ugly that we have taken a fancy to you. Come with us and be a bird of passage. In another marsh near-by, there are some fetching wild geese, all nice young ladies who know how to quack. You are so ugly that you'll completely turn their heads."
Bing! Bang! Shots rang in the air, and these two ganders fell dead among the reeds. The water was red with their blood. Bing! Bang! the shots rang, and as whole flocks of wild geese flew up from the reeds another volley crashed. A great hunt was in progress. The hunters lay under cover all around the marsh, and some even perched on branches of trees that overhung the reeds. Blue smoke rose like clouds from the shade of the trees, and drifted far out over the water.
The bird dogs came splash, splash! through the swamp, bending down the reeds and the rushes on every side. This gave the poor duckling such a fright that he twisted his head about to hide it under his wing. But at that very moment a fearfully big dog appeared right beside him. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and his wicked eyes glared horribly. He opened his wide jaws, flashed his sharp teeth, and - splash, splash - on he went without touching the duckling.
"Thank heavens," he sighed, "I'm so ugly that the dog won't even bother to bite me."
He lay perfectly still, while the bullets splattered through the reeds as shot after shot was fired. It was late in the day before things became quiet again, and even then the poor duckling didn't dare move. He waited several hours before he ventured to look about him, and then he scurried away from that marsh as fast as he could go. He ran across field and meadows. The wind was so strong that he had to struggle to keep his feet.
Late in the evening he came to a miserable little hovel, so ramshackle that it did not know which way to tumble, and that was the only reason it still stood. The wind struck the duckling so hard that the poor little fellow had to sit down on his tail to withstand it. The storm blew stronger and stronger, but the duckling noticed that one hinge had come loose and the door hung so crooked that he could squeeze through the crack into the room, and that's just what he did.
Here lived an old woman with her cat and her hen. The cat, whom she called "Sonny," could arch his back, purr, and even make sparks, though for that you had to stroke his fur the wrong way. The hen had short little legs, so she was called "Chickey Shortleg." She laid good eggs, and the old woman loved her as if she had been her own child.
In the morning they were quick to notice the strange duckling. The cat began to purr, and the hen began to cluck.
"What on earth!" The old woman looked around, but she was short-sighted, and she mistook the duckling for a fat duck that had lost its way. "That was a good catch," she said. "Now I shall have duck eggs-unless it's a drake. We must try it out." So the duckling was tried out for three weeks, but not one egg did he lay.
In this house the cat was master and the hen was mistress. They always said, "We and the world," for they thought themselves half of the world, and much the better half at that. The duckling thought that there might be more than one way of thinking, but the hen would not hear of it.
"Can you lay eggs?" she asked
"No."
"Then be so good as to hold your tongue."
The cat asked, "Can you arch your back, purr, or make sparks?"
"No."
"Then keep your opinion to yourself when sensible people are talking."
The duckling sat in a corner, feeling most despondent. Then he remembered the fresh air and the sunlight. Such a desire to go swimming on the water possessed him that he could not help telling the hen about it.
"What on earth has come over you?" the hen cried. "You haven't a thing to do, and that's why you get such silly notions. Lay us an egg, or learn to purr, and you'll get over it."
"But it's so refreshing to float on the water," said the duckling, "so refreshing to feel it rise over your head as you dive to the bottom."
"Yes, it must be a great pleasure!" said the hen. "I think you must have gone crazy. Ask the cat, who's the wisest fellow I know, whether he likes to swim or dive down in the water. Of myself I say nothing. But ask the old woman, our mistress. There's no one on earth wiser than she is. Do you imagine she wants to go swimming and feel the water rise over her head?"
"You don't understand me," said the duckling.
"Well, if we don't, who would? Surely you don't think you are cleverer than the cat and the old woman-to say nothing of myself. Don't be so conceited, child. Just thank your Maker for all the kindness we have shown you. Didn't you get into this snug room, and fall in with people who can tell you what's what? But you are such a numbskull that it's no pleasure to have you around. Believe me, I tell you this for your own good. I say unpleasant truths, but that's the only way you can know who are your friends. Be sure now that you lay some eggs. See to it that you learn to purr or to make sparks."
"I think I'd better go out into the wide world," said the duckling.
"Suit yourself," said the hen.
So off went the duckling. He swam on the water, and dived down in it, but still he was slighted by every living creature because of his ugliness.
Autumn came on. The leaves in the forest turned yellow and brown. The wind took them and whirled them about. The heavens looked cold as the low clouds hung heavy with snow and hail. Perched on the fence, the raven screamed, "Caw, caw!" and trembled with cold. It made one shiver to think of it. Pity the poor little duckling!
One evening, just as the sun was setting in splendor, a great flock of large, handsome birds appeared out of the reeds. The duckling had never seen birds so beautiful. They were dazzling white, with long graceful necks. They were swans. They uttered a very strange cry as they unfurled their magnificent wings to fly from this cold land, away to warmer countries and to open waters. They went up so high, so very high, that the ugly little duckling felt a strange uneasiness come over him as he watched them. He went around and round in the water, like a wheel. He craned his neck to follow their course, and gave a cry so shrill and strange that he frightened himself. Oh! He could not forget them-those splendid, happy birds. When he could no longer see them he dived to the very bottom. and when he came up again he was quite beside himself. He did not know what birds they were or whither they were bound, yet he loved them more than anything he had ever loved before. It was not that he envied them, for how could he ever dare dream of wanting their marvelous beauty for himself? He would have been grateful if only the ducks would have tolerated him-the poor ugly creature.
The winter grew cold - so bitterly cold that the duckling had to swim to and fro in the water to keep it from freezing over. But every night the hole in which he swam kept getting smaller and smaller. Then it froze so hard that the duckling had to paddle continuously to keep the crackling ice from closing in upon him. At last, too tired to move, he was frozen fast in the ice.
Early that morning a farmer came by, and when he saw how things were he went out on the pond, broke away the ice with his wooden shoe, and carried the duckling home to his wife. There the duckling revived, but when the children wished to play with him he thought they meant to hurt him. Terrified, he fluttered into the milk pail, splashing the whole room with milk. The woman shrieked and threw up her hands as he flew into the butter tub, and then in and out of the meal barrel. Imagine what he looked like now! The woman screamed and lashed out at him with the fire tongs. The children tumbled over each other as they tried to catch him, and they laughed and they shouted. Luckily the door was open, and the duckling escaped through it into the bushes, where he lay down, in the newly fallen snow, as if in a daze.
But it would be too sad to tell of all the hardships and wretchedness he had to endure during this cruel winter. When the warm sun shone once more, the duckling was still alive among the reeds of the marsh. The larks began to sing again. It was beautiful springtime.
Then, quite suddenly, he lifted his wings. They swept through the air much more strongly than before, and their powerful strokes carried him far. Before he quite knew what was happening, he found himself in a great garden where apple trees bloomed. The lilacs filled the air with sweet scent and hung in clusters from long, green branches that bent over a winding stream. Oh, but it was lovely here in the freshness of spring!
From the thicket before him came three lovely white swans. They ruffled their feathers and swam lightly in the stream. The duckling recognized these noble creatures, and a strange feeling of sadness came upon him.
"I shall fly near these royal birds, and they will peck me to bits because I, who am so very ugly, dare to go near them. But I don't care. Better be killed by them than to be nipped by the ducks, pecked by the hens, kicked about by the hen-yard girl, or suffer such misery in winter."
So he flew into the water and swam toward the splendid swans. They saw him, and swept down upon him with their rustling feathers raised. "Kill me!" said the poor creature, and he bowed his head down over the water to wait for death. But what did he see there, mirrored in the clear stream? He beheld his own image, and it was no longer the reflection of a clumsy, dirty, gray bird, ugly and offensive. He himself was a swan! Being born in a duck yard does not matter, if only you are hatched from a swan's egg.
He felt quite glad that he had come through so much trouble and misfortune, for now he had a fuller understanding of his own good fortune, and of beauty when he met with it. The great swans swam all around him and stroked him with their bills.
Several little children came into the garden to throw grain and bits of bread upon the water. The smallest child cried, "Here's a new one," and the others rejoiced, "yes, a new one has come." They clapped their hands, danced around, and ran to bring their father and mother.
And they threw bread and cake upon the water, while they all agreed, "The new one is the most handsome of all. He's so young and so good-looking." The old swans bowed in his honor.
Then he felt very bashful, and tucked his head under his wing. He did not know what this was all about. He felt so very happy, but he wasn't at all proud, for a good heart never grows proud. He thought about how he had been persecuted and scorned, and now he heard them all call him the most beautiful of all beautiful birds. The lilacs dipped their clusters into the stream before him, and the sun shone so warm and so heartening. He rustled his feathers and held his slender neck high, as he cried out with full heart: "I never dreamed there could be so much happiness, when I was the ugly duckling."#p#副标题#e#
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莎翁的十四行诗已令读者叹为观止,是我们学习英语的很好阅读素材,下面是读文网小编为大家带来莎翁经典英语诗歌,欢迎大家阅读欣赏!
How heavy do I journey on the way,
多么沉重地我在旅途上跋涉,
When what I seek, my weary travel's end,
当我的目的地(我倦旅的终点)
Doth teach that ease and that repose to say
唆使安逸和休憩这样对我说:
'Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend!'
"你又离开了你的朋友那么远!"
The beast that bears me, tired with my woe,
那驮我的畜牲,经不起我的忧厄,
Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me,
驮着我心里的重负慢慢地走,
As if by some instinct the wretch did know
仿佛这畜牲凭某种本能晓得
His rider loved not speed, being made from thee:
它主人不爱快,因为离你远游:
The bloody spur cannot provoke him on
有时恼怒用那血淋淋的靴钉
That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide;
猛刺它的皮,也不能把它催促;
Which heavily he answers with a groan,
它只是沉重地报以一声呻吟,
More sharp to me than spurring to his side;
对于我,比刺它的靴钉还要残酷,
For that same groan doth put this in my mind;
因为这呻吟使我省悟和熟筹:
My grief lies onward and my joy behind.
我的忧愁在前面,快乐在后头。
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莎翁十四行诗每首诗都有独立的审美价值,让人沉醉于优美的文字当中。下面是读文网小编为大家带来莎翁晨读英语诗歌,希望大家喜欢!
Thus can my love excuse the slow offence
这样,我的爱就可原谅那笨兽
Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed:
(当我离开你),不嫌它走得太慢:
From where thou art why should I haste me thence?
从你所在地我何必匆匆跑走?
Till I return, of posting is no need.
除非是归来,绝对不用把路赶。
O, what excuse will my poor beast then find,
那时可怜的畜牲怎会得宽容,
When swift extremity can seem but slow?
当极端的迅速还要显得迟钝?
Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind;
那时我就要猛刺,纵使在御风,
In winged speed no motion shall I know:
如飞的速度我只觉得是停顿:
Then can no horse with my desire keep pace;
那时就没有马能和欲望齐驱;
Therefore desire of perfect'st love being made,
因此,欲望,由最理想的爱构成,
Shall neigh--no dull flesh--in his fiery race;
就引颈长嘶,当它火似地飞驰;
But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade;
但爱,为了爱,将这样饶恕那畜牲:
Since from thee going he went wilful-slow,
既然别你的时候它有意慢走,
Towards thee I'll run, and give him leave to go.
归途我就下来跑,让它得自由。
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想欣赏莎士比亚的经典英语诗歌吗?下面是读文网小编为大家带来莎士比亚经典英语诗歌,希望大家喜欢!
O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
哦,美看起来要更美得多少倍,
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
若再有真加给它温馨的装潢!
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
玫瑰花很美,但我们觉得它更美,
For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
因为它吐出一缕甜蜜的芳香。
The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye
野蔷薇的姿色也是同样旖旎,
As the perfumed tincture of the roses,
比起玫瑰的芳馥四溢的姣颜,
Hang on such thorns and play as wantonly
同挂在树上,同样会搔首弄姿,
When summer's breath their masked buds discloses:
当夏天呼息使它的嫩蕊轻展:
But, for their virtue only is their show,
但它们唯一的美德只在色相,
They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade,
开时无人眷恋,萎谢也无人理;
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so;
寂寞地死去。香的玫瑰却两样;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made:
她那温馨的死可以酿成香液:
And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth,
你也如此,美丽而可爱的青春,
When that shall fade, my verse distills your truth.
当韶华雕谢,诗提取你的纯精。
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英语诗歌文字优美,读起来朗朗上口,是我们英语晨读的很好阅读材料。下面是读文网小编为大家带来晨读经典英语诗歌,希望大家喜欢!
Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing,
再会吧!你太宝贵了,我无法高攀;
And like enough thou know'st thy estimate:
显然你也晓得你自己的声价:
The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing;
你的价值的证券够把你赎还,
My bonds in thee are all determinate.
我对你的债权只好全部作罢。
For how do I hold thee but by thy granting?
因为,不经你批准,我怎能占有你?
And for that riches where is my deserving?
我哪有福气消受这样的珍宝?
The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting,
这美惠对于我既然毫无根据,
And so my patent back again is swerving.
便不得不取消我的专利执照。
Thyself thou gavest, thy own worth then not knowing,
你曾许了我,因为低估了自己,
Or me, to whom thou gavest it, else mistaking;
不然就错识了我,你的受赐者;
So thy great gift, upon misprision growing,
因此,你这份厚礼,既出自误会,
Comes home again, on better judgment making.
就归还给你,经过更好的判决。
Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter,
这样,我曾占有你,像一个美梦,
In sleep a king, but waking no such matter.
在梦里称王,醒来只是一场空。
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英语诗歌文字优美,读起来朗朗上口,是我们英语晨读的很好阅读材料。下面是读文网小编为大家带来经典晨读双语诗歌,希望大家喜欢!
My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still,
我的缄口的诗神只脉脉无语;
While comments of your praise, richly compiled,
他们对你的美评却累牍连篇,
Reserve their character with golden quill
用金笔刻成辉煌夺目的大字,
And precious phrase by all the Muses filed.
和经过一切艺神雕琢的名言。
I think good thoughts whilst other write good words,
我满腔热情,他们却善颂善祷;
And like unletter'd clerk still cry 'Amen'
像不识字的牧师只知喊"阿门",
To every hymn that able spirit affords
去响应才子们用精炼的笔调
In polish'd form of well-refined pen.
熔铸成的每一首赞美的歌咏。
Hearing you praised, I say ''Tis so, 'tis true,'
听见人赞美你,我说,"的确,很对",
And to the most of praise add something more;
凭他们怎样歌颂我总嫌不够;
But that is in my thought, whose love to you,
但只在心里说,因为我对你的爱
Though words come hindmost, holds his rank before.
虽拙于词令,行动却永远带头。
Then others for the breath of words respect,
那么,请敬他们,为他们的虚文;
Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect.
敬我,为我的哑口无言的真诚。
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诗歌是世界上最古老最基本的文学形式,是语言艺术最高的表现形式,那么你想读一些经典的英语诗歌吗?下面是读文网小编为大家带来经典英语诗歌,希望大家喜欢!
I never saw that you did painting need
我从不觉得你需要涂脂荡粉,
And therefore to your fair no painting set;
因而从不用脂粉涂你的朱颜;
I found, or thought I found, you did exceed
我发觉,或以为发觉,你的丰韵
The barren tender of a poet's debt;
远超过诗人献你的无味缱绻:
And therefore have I slept in your report,
因此,关于你我的歌只装打盹,
That you yourself being extant well might show
好让你自己生动地现身说法,
How far a modern quill doth come too short,
证明时下的文笔是多么粗笨,
Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow.
想把美德,你身上的美德增华。
This silence for my sin you did impute,
你把我这沉默认为我的罪行,
Which shall be most my glory, being dumb;
其实却应该是我最大的荣光;
For I impair not beauty being mute,
因为我不作声于美丝毫无损,
When others would give life and bring a tomb.
别人想给你生命,反把你埋葬。
There lives more life in one of your fair eyes
你的两位诗人所模拟的赞美,
Than both your poets can in praise devise.
远不如你一只慧眼所藏的光辉。
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英语诗歌是我们高中英语晨读的很好阅读材料,下面是读文网小编为大家带来高中晨读英语诗歌,欢迎大家阅读欣赏!
Or I shall live your epitaph to make,
无论我将活着为你写墓志铭,
Or you survive when I in earth am rotten;
或你未亡而我已在地下腐朽,
From hence your memory death cannot take,
纵使我已被遗忘得一干二净,
Although in me each part will be forgotten.
死神将不能把你的忆念夺走。
Your name from hence immortal life shall have,
你的名字将从这诗里得永生,
Though I, once gone, to all the world must die:
虽然我,一去,对人间便等于死;
The earth can yield me but a common grave,
大地只能够给我一座乱葬坟,
When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie.
而你却将长埋在人们眼睛里。
Your monument shall be my gentle verse,
我这些小诗便是你的纪念碑,
Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read,
未来的眼睛固然要百读不厌,
And tongues to be your being shall rehearse
未来的舌头也将要传诵不衰,
When all the breathers of this world are dead;
当现在呼吸的人已瞑目长眠。
You still shall live--such virtue hath my pen--
这强劲的笔将使你活在生气
Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men.
最蓬勃的地方,在人们的嘴里。
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英语晨读是我们学习高中英语的很好习惯,那么你想找一些优美的英语诗歌来朗读吗?下面是读文网小编为大家带来高中晨读优美英语诗歌,欢迎大家阅读欣赏!
Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid,
当初我独自一个恳求你协助,
My verse alone had all thy gentle grace,
只有我的诗占有你一切妩媚;
But now my gracious numbers are decay'd
但现在我清新的韵律既陈腐,
And my sick Muse doth give another place.
我的病诗神只好给别人让位。
I grant, sweet love, thy lovely argument
我承认,爱呵,你这美妙的题材
Deserves the travail of a worthier pen,
值得更高明的笔的精写细描;
Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent
可是你的诗人不过向你还债,
He robs thee of and pays it thee again.
他把夺自你的当作他的创造。
He lends thee virtue and he stole that word
他赐你美德,美德这词他只从
From thy behavior; beauty doth he give
你的行为偷取;他加给你秀妍,
And found it in thy cheek; he can afford
其实从你颊上得来;他的歌颂
No praise to thee but what in thee doth live.
没有一句不是从你身上发见。
Then thank him not for that which he doth say,
那么,请别感激他对你的称赞,
Since what he owes thee thou thyself dost pay.
既然他只把欠你的向你偿还。
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想找一些简单又有个性的英文句子来做qq签名吗?下面读文网小编为大家带简单个性英文签名,希望大家喜欢!
Life is a on return journey.
人生是一段没有退路的旅程。
Home is where the heart is.
心在的地方就是家。
Life is tough, my darling, but so are you.
生活很艰难,但是宝贝,你也很坚强。
When it has is lost, brave to give up.
当拥有已经是失去,就勇敢的放弃。
Don't let the fear for losing keep you from trying.
别因为害怕失败而停止尝试。
Real dream is the other shore of reality.
真正的梦就是现实的彼岸。
Sometimes you have to give up on someone in order to respect yourself.
有时候我们必须放弃一些人,来成全自己的自尊。
There is no elevator to success. You have to take the stairs.
成功没有电梯,只有一步一个脚印。
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