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¡¡¡¡38¸¾Å®½ÚµÄÓ¢ÎÄÊ«¸è 1

¡¡¡¡THE FIRST JASMINES

¡¡¡¡Ah£¬ these jasmines£¬ these white jasmines£¡

¡¡¡¡I seem to remember the first day when I filled

¡¡¡¡my hands with these jasmines£¬ these white jasmines¡£

¡¡¡¡I have loved the sunlight£¬ the sky and the green earth£»

¡¡¡¡I have heard the liquid murmur of the river through the darkness of midnight£»

¡¡¡¡Autumn sunsets have come to me at the bend of a road in the lonely waste£¬ like a bride raising her veil to accept her lover¡£

¡¡¡¡°¡£¬ÕâЩÜÔÀò£¬ÕâЩ½à°×µÄÜÔÀò£¡

¡¡¡¡ÎÒÒÀÏ¡¼ÇµÃÎÒµÄË«ÊÖµÚÒ»´ÎÅõÂúÁËÕâЩÜÔÀò»¨¡£ÕâЩ½à°×µÄÜÔÀò»¨µÄʱºò¡£

¡¡¡¡ÎÒÔø°®ÄÇÑô¹â£¬°®ÄÇÌì¿Õ»¹ÓÐÄÇÂÌÉ«µÄ´óµØ£»

¡¡¡¡ÎÒÔøÔÚÆáºÚµÄÎçÒ¹ñöÌýÄǺÓË®äÈäȵÄÄØà«£»

¡¡¡¡ÇïÈÕµÄϦÑô£¬ÔÚ»ÄÔ­µÀ·µÄתÍä´¦Ó­½ÓÎÒ£¬ºÃÏñÐÂÄïÏÆÆðËýµÄÃæÉ´Ó­½ÓËýµÄ°®ÈË¡£

¡¡¡¡Yet my memory is still sweet with the first white jasmines that I held in my hand when I was a child¡£

¡¡¡¡È»¶ø£¬ÎÒ»ØÒäÆðº¢ÌáʱµÚÒ»´ÎÅõÔÚÊÖÀïµÄ½à°×ÜÔÀò£¬ÐÄÀí³äÂúÁËÌðÃÛµÄ'»ØÒä¡£

¡¡¡¡Many a glad day has come in my life£¬and I have laughed with merrymakers on festival nights¡£

¡¡¡¡ÎÒÉúƽÓйýÐí¶à¿ìÀÖµÄÈÕ×Ó£¬ÔÚ½ÚÈÕÊ¢µäµÄÒ¹Íí£¬ÎÒÔø¾­Óë¿ñ»¶Õßһͬ´óЦ¡£

¡¡¡¡On grey mornings of rain I have crooned many an idle song¡£

¡¡¡¡ÔÚϸÓêö­ö­µÄÇ峿£¬ÎÒÒ÷³ª¹ýÐí¶àÏÐÉ¢µÄ¸èÒ¥¡£

¡¡¡¡I have worn round my neck the evening wreath of bakulas woven by the band of love¡£

¡¡¡¡ÎÒ¾±ÉÏÒ²Ôø´÷×Å°®ÈËÓÃÊÖÖ¯¾ÍµÄ"°Å¿âÀ­Ë¿"»Æ»è»¨»·¡£

¡¡¡¡Yet my heart is sweet with the memory of the first fresh jasmines that filled my hands when I was a child¡£

¡¡¡¡È»¶ø£¬ÎÒ»ØÒäÆðº¢ÌáÊǵÚÒ»´ÎÅõ×ÅÊÖÀïµÄ½à°×ÜÔÀò£¬ÐÄÀï³äÂúÁËÌðÃ۵ĻØÒä¡£

¡¡¡¡38¸¾Å®½ÚµÄÓ¢ÎÄÊ«¸è 2

¡¡¡¡Dedicate to mother is taking selfs seat quietly in a flower £¬ is already melting with the book for an integral whole¡£

¡¡¡¡The book opens innumerable wider because of her be absorbed being unruffle by emotion£¬ the black eye¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª

¡¡¡¡How beautiful but quiet£¡ Those days

¡¡¡¡I grow up in order to sampling such scene health¡£ Her light reading aloud swings up a spoondrift in air

¡¡¡¡Love a spoondrift heartily

¡¡¡¡Smell the ocean being homesick£¡

¡¡¡¡The posture bending down like this£¬ makes sunlight bump against ground turn£»

¡¡¡¡So snow¡ªwhite hair£¬ makes every become pure but fine in winter¡£

¡¡¡¡Òâ˼£ºÏ׸øĸÇ× ¾²¾²µØÔÚÒ»Ö¦»¨¶äÉÏ×ø×Å£¬ÒѾ­ºÍÊé±¾ÈÚΪһÌå¡£

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¡¡¡¡38¸¾Å®½ÚµÄÓ¢ÎÄÊ«¸è 3

¡¡¡¡Bread and Roses

¡¡¡¡James Oppenheim

¡¡¡¡As we come marching, marching, in the beauty of the day,A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray,Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,For the people hear us singing: "Bread and Roses! Bread and Roses!"

¡¡¡¡As we come marching, marching, we battle too for men,For they are womens children, and we mother them again.

¡¡¡¡Our days shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;

¡¡¡¡Hearts starve as well as bodies: Give us Bread, but give us Roses!

¡¡¡¡As we come marching, marching, unnumbered women dead,Go crying through our singing their ancient song of Bread;

¡¡¡¡Small art and love and beauty their trudging spirits knew.

¡¡¡¡Yes, it is Bread we fight for¡ªbut we fight for Roses, too!

¡¡¡¡As we come marching, marching, we bring the greater Days.

¡¡¡¡The rising of the women means the rising of the race.

¡¡¡¡No more the drudge and idler,ten that toil where one reposes,But a sharing of lifes glories: Bread and Roses! Bread and Roses!

¡¡¡¡Ãæ°üÓëõ¹å

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