六十一首聶魯達
可供兩個月使用
還沒唸完
2006就過去了
時間真是少呀!
http://www.poemhunter.com/i/ebooks/pdf/pablo_neruda_2004_9.pdf
(對詩有興趣的小朋友
還是訂閱每日一詩好了
http://www.poemhunter.com/poems/)
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今天的Top 30: ( 會不會讓你覺得很振奮?)
Phenomenal Woman by Maya Angelou
Still I Rise by Maya Angelou
Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein
If You Forget Me by Pablo Neruda
Dreams by Langston Hughes
One Inch Tall by Shel Silverstein
The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost
i carry your heart with me by ee cummings
Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You by Pablo Neruda
Television by Roald Dahl
Warning by Jenny Joseph
I Crave Your Mouth, Your Voice, Your Hair by Pablo Neruda
As I Grew Older by Langston Hughes
A Dream Within A Dream by Edgar Allan Poe
Dream Deferred by Langston Hughes
”I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud” by William Wordsworth
On the Ning Nang Nong by Spike Milligan
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost
If by Rudyard Kipling
Alone by Edgar Allan Poe
Fire and Ice by Robert Frost
The Lesson by Roger McGough
Sex Without Love by Sharon Olds
The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas
All That is Gold Does Not Glitter by JRR Tolkien
Lovesong by Ted Hughes
Let Me Die a Youngman’s Death by Roger McGough
”Hope” is the thing with feathers by Emily Dickinson
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既然來了
就坐下來唸一唸聶魯達再走吧!
反正襪子天天要穿
飯天天要吃
有人把這天天要做的事寫成詩
真感謝他!
ODE TO MY SOCKS
by Pablo Neruda
Maru Mori brought me
a pair
of socks
that she knit with her
shepherd’s hands.
Two socks as soft
as rabbit fur.
I thrust my feet
inside them
as if they were
two
little boxes
knit
from threads
of sunset
and sheepskin.
My feet were
two woolen
fish
in those outrageous socks,
two gangly,
navy-blue sharks
impaled
on a golden thread,
two giant blackbirds,
two cannons:
thus
were my feet
honored
by
those
heavenly
socks.
They were
so beautiful
I found my feet
unlovable
for the very first time,
like two crusty old
firemen, firemen
unworthy
of that embroidered
fire,
those incandescent
socks.
Nevertheless
I fought
the sharp temptation
to put them away
the way schoolboys
put
fireflies in a bottle,
the way scholars
hoard
holy writ.
I fought
the mad urge
to lock them
in a golden
cage
and feed them birdseed
and morsels of pink melon
every day.
Like jungle
explorers
who deliver a young deer
of the rarest species
to the roasting spit
then wolf it down
in shame,
I stretched
my feet forward
and pulled on
those
gorgeous
socks,
and over them
my shoes.
So this is
the moral of my ode:
beauty is beauty
twice over
and good things are doubly
good
when you’re talking
about
a pair of wool
socks
in the dead of winter.
