I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
by:Edgar Allan Poe


回复25楼:哈哈哈

回复25楼:看的头疼

同意

第七个：The Existence of the World Is a Controversy

回复25楼:我消失一会来

吧里面有木有翻译帝啊
表示完全看不懂
呜呜呜呜呜

After the photograph, the class wandered
off and I wondered why so often I found myself
the last man. Because I'd read Emerson
all summer long, I took my lack
of discomfort to be a sign of heroic standing

So I determined to set for myself a new relation
to the universe, to write poems.
As if one could settle, once and for all, the question
whether or not vocation is all.

Solitude can become a rotten habit.
I remember how acute the contentment,
Friday nights especially, my reflection in the television.

去找小娜给翻译

What passes for turning inward, for study and for art,
can slip unnoticed into a well-practiced jeopardy,
a narrative fortress projecting the story
of separation into a post-quotidian SIGNIFICANT LIFE.
A myth is a lie breathed through silver.

塞饭去了？

Peace, not necessarily the doing of peaceful spirits,
can lead to believing that being a person is easy. On my honeymoon, I thought to myself
You'll never be alone again. Inside
the wigwam suite, clothes scattered
around the bearskin rug, an Indian-warrior
gelatin print—his feathers new, his face
deep-lined and droughted—as my eyewitness,
I wondered what might happen
if I surrendered, with a few conditions,
to this bright casualty.
by:John Estes


小娜～～～
求翻译