شعر انگلیسی

mohsen chavoshi

mohsen chavoshi

کاربر فعال
anyone lived in a pretty how town by E. E. Cummings

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did

Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain

​
 
mohsen chavoshi

mohsen chavoshi

کاربر فعال
may my heart always be open to little... by E. E. Cummings

may my heart always be open to little
birds who are the secrets of living
whatever they sing is better than to know
and if men should not hear them men are old

may my mind stroll about hungry
and fearless and thirsty and supple
and even if it's sunday may i be wrong
for whenever men are right they are not young

and may myself do nothing usefully
and love yourself so more than truly
there's never been quite such a fool who could fail
pulling all the sky over him with one smile

​
 
mohsen chavoshi

mohsen chavoshi

کاربر فعال
Because I could not stop for Death by Emily Dickinson

Because I could not stop for Death
He kindly stopped for me
The Carriage held but just Ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the School, where Children strove
At recess in the ring
We passed the fields of gazing grain
We passed the setting sun.

Or rather, he passed us
The dews drew quivering and chill
For only Gossamer, my gown
My tippet only tulle.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the GROUND
The roof was scarcely visible
The cornice in the ground.

Since then 'tis centuries and yet
Feels shorter than the DAY
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.

​
 
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Is It Possible by Sir Thomas Wyatt

Is It Possible by Sir Thomas Wyatt

Is It Possible

Is it possible
That so high debate,
So sharp, so sore, and of such rate,
Should end so soon and was begun so late?
Is it possible?

Is it possible
So cruel intent,
So hasty heat and so soon spent,
From love to hate, and thence for to relent?
Is it possible?

Is it possible
That any may find
Within one heart so diverse mind,
To change or turn as weather and wind?
Is it possible?

Is it possible
To spy it in an eye
That turns as oft as chance on die,
The truth whereof can any try?
Is it possible?

It is possible
For to turn so oft,
To bring that lowest which was most aloft,
And to fall highest yet to light soft:
It is possible.

All is possible
Whoso list believe.
Trust therefore first, and after preve,
As men wed ladies by licence and leave.
All is possible.

by Sir Thomas Wyatt
​
 
s_ghazal

s_ghazal

عضو جدید
...

...

The nearer the soul is to God, the less its
since the point nearest the circle is subject to the least motion.. disturbances

هر چه روح به خدا نزدیکتر باشد، آشفتگی اش کمتر است
زیرا نزدیک ترین نقطه به مرکز دایره، کمترین تکان را دارد​
​
The best cosmetic for lips is truth
زیباترین آرایش برای لبان شما راستگویی

for voice is prayer
برای صدای شما دعا به درگاه خداوند

for eyes is pity
برای چشمان شما رحم و شفقت

for hands is charity
برای دستان شما بخشش

for heart is love
برای قلب شما عشق

and for life is friendship
و برای زندگی شما دوستی هاست


No one can go back and make a brand new start
هیچ کس نمیتونه به عقب برگرده و همه چیز را از نو شروع کنه

Anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending
ولی هر کسی میتونه از همین حالا عاقبت خوب و جدیدی را برای خودش رقم بزنه


God didn't promise days without pain
خداوند هیچ تضمین و قولی مبنی بر این که حتما روزهای ما بدون غم بگذره

laughter, without sorrow, sun without rain
خنده باشه بدون هیچ غصه ای، یا خورشید باشه بدون هیچ بارونی، نداده

but He did promise strength for the day, comfort for the tears
ولی یه قول رو به ما داده که اگه استقامت داشته باشیم در مقابل مشکلات،
تحمل سختی ها رو برامون آسون میکنه​
 
s_ghazal

s_ghazal

عضو جدید
Don't ....

Don't ....


Don't
walk in front of me
I may not follow
Don't walk behind me
I may not lead
Walk beside me and
be my friend
Albert Camus


جلوي من قدم بر ندار
شايد نتونم دنبالت بيام
پشت سرم راه نرو
شايد نتونم رهرو خوبي باشم
کنارم راه بيا و دوستم باش.:smile:

************

 
mohsen chavoshi

mohsen chavoshi

کاربر فعال
Where the Sidewalk Ends
by Shel Silverstein​
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
​
 
mohsen chavoshi

mohsen chavoshi

کاربر فعال
A Dream Within A Dream

by Edgar Allan Poe


 Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

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?
​
 
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Go, lovely rose! by Edmund Waller

Go, lovely rose! by Edmund Waller

Go, lovely rose!

Go, lovely rose!
Tell her that wastes her time and me
That now she knows,
When I resemble her to thee,
How sweet and fair she seems to be.

Tell her that's young,
And shuns to have her graces spied,
That hadst thou sprung
In deserts, where no men abide,
Thou must have uncommended died.

Small is the worth
Of beauty from the light retired;
Bid her come forth,
Suffer herself to be desired,
And not blush so to be admired.

Then die! that she
The common fate of all things rare
May read in thee;
How small a part of time they share
That are so wondrous sweet and fair!

by Edmund Waller
​
 
venus4164

venus4164

عضو جدید
In the world where there is no more need for anything
My song of freedom is you
And infinity unfolds before us
Out of limits of your eyes
The feeling is being born, born in the crying
And grows very high and goes away
And flies through the accusations of people
Who are indifferent to their heritage
Smiling through a ring of love
Real love

In the world which is a prisoner
We’ll breath freely, you and me
And the truth is clear to us
And the image is limpid (transparent) finally
New feelings, young emotions
Are felt clearly in us
The image of the fantasies of the past
While falling leaves the picture stainless
And is rising the warm wind of love
Real love
And rediscover you

Your sweet girl that you can’t desire/ask
But you should know wherever you go
You’ll find me by my breath
If you want

One day the stones will revive into houses covered with wild roses
And will call us
The forests abandoned and that’s why stayed virgin
Are opening and embracing us
 
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Cargoes by John Masefield

Cargoes by John Masefield

Cargoes

QUINQUIREME of Nineveh from distant Ophir,
Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine,
With a cargo of ivory,
And apes and peacocks,
Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine.

Stately Spanish galleon coming from the Isthmus,
Dipping through the Tropics by the palm-green shores,
With a cargo of diamonds,
Emeralds, amythysts,
Topazes, and cinnamon, and gold moidores.

Dirty British coaster with a salt-caked smoke stack,
Butting through the Channel in the mad March days,
With a cargo of Tyne coal,
Road-rails, pig-lead,
Firewood, iron-ware, and cheap tin trays.

by John Masefield
​
 
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The Men That Fought At Minden by Rudyard Kipling

The Men That Fought At Minden by Rudyard Kipling

The Men That Fought At Minden

A Song of Instruction

The men that fought at Minden, they was rookies in their time --
So was them that fought at Waterloo!
All the 'ole command, yuss, from Minden to Maiwand,
They was once dam' sweeps like you!

Then do not be discouraged, 'Eaven is your 'elper,
We'll learn you not to forget;
An' you mustn't swear an' curse, or you'll only catch it worse,
For we'll make you soldiers yet!

The men that fought at Minden, they 'ad stocks beneath their chins,
Six inch 'igh an' more;
But fatigue it was their pride, and they ~would~ not be denied
To clean the cook-'ouse floor.

The men that fought at Minden, they had anarchistic bombs
Served to 'em by name of 'and-grenades;
But they got it in the eye (same as you will by-an'-by)
When they clubbed their field-parades.

The men that fought at Minden, they 'ad buttons up an' down,
Two-an'-twenty dozen of 'em told;
But they didn't grouse an' shirk at an hour's extry work,
They kept 'em bright as gold.

The men that fought at Minden, they was armed with musketoons,
Also, they was drilled by 'alberdiers;
I don't know what they were, but the sergeants took good care
They washed be'ind their ears.

The men that fought at Minden, they 'ad ever cash in 'and
Which they did not bank nor save,
But spent it gay an' free on their betters -- such as me --
For the good advice I gave.

The men that fought at Minden, they was civil -- yuss, they was --
Never didn't talk o' rights an' wrongs,
But they got it with the toe (same as you will get it -- so!) --
For interrupting songs.

The men that fought at Minden, they was several other things
Which I don't remember clear;
But ~that's~ the reason why, now the six-year men are dry,
The rooks will stand the beer!

Then do not be discouraged, 'Eaven is your 'elper,
We'll learn you not to forget;
An' you mustn't swear an' curse, or you'll only catch it worse,
For we'll make you soldiers yet!

Soldiers yet, if you've got it in you --
All for the sake of the Core;
Soldiers yet, if we 'ave to skin you --
Run an' get the beer, Johnny Raw -- Johnny Raw!
Ho! run an' get the beer, Johnny Raw!

by Rudyard Kipling
​
 
elhamanwar

elhamanwar

عضو جدید
I am happeningagain in the continuation of a narrative​


There is warwar​


There is war inmy head​


In my narrativeis war​


These days whenI think by all means​


War isoffended​


Doubt is sittingin my heart​


My believes aretaken to war​


There is warwar​


War has gatheredus together to become dispersed​


War causes us toreach together to keep our distance​


Halabcheyetunconscious​


Has fallen over the bed close to me​


Kabulhas dressed his brokenhand with plaster cast in the corridor​


And …​


Yesterday a whore fromJerusalemsent a letter tome​


All its lines smelled like anthrax​


After that I fear from opening letters​


I fear if this narrative with my shirt​


Come martyr from war​


With a plaque​


He came back like a brief will:​


Let all the rights I gave you be left​


I wish poetry for you, for poetry myself​


Nothing for myself, I will you to poetry​


Let it Amen let Amen be left Amen​


Now let me put my head over the living​


Till the regret of sitting beside a cradle​


Till mother​


Till I die…​
 
آخرین ویرایش:
elhamanwar

elhamanwar

عضو جدید
کدکنی شفیعی
“In These Nights”
To Mehdi Akhavan e Sales (The Contemporary Poet)
Petrified is in these nights
Floweret by foliage and
Foliage by squall and
Squall by stratus.
Horrified is in these nights
Any mirror by its image.
And reveal not their secrecy and song, the springs
Alone, but, is widespread your chant.
Thus oceanic, thus vigilant
As though a requiem
Alone is widespread your chant in every lane
For that massacre
And the blood of the martyrs’ clan that shed in vain
You alone are who discerns in every minute
The ciphered song of the despairs’ lute
Oh, thou!
The songbird of the never-leafedness orchard
Remainest upon the yonder high bough
Remain till those trees
Now slept in the sprouts
Hearken the ardor of your chant
Remain till the luminous mirrorlands
And flowerets of the brooks
Sense by your song
The hatred and curse
Which to the ravage days belong
In these days the saddest bird
You are, with the gloomiest grief song!
Who wails over Mazdak and Zoroaster’s orchard
But you, the rainiest cloud?
You, the most wayward anger surging aloud
In the goblet of Khayyam.
By Mohammad Reza Shafi’ Kadkani
 
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I Know the Music by Wilfred Owen

I Know the Music by Wilfred Owen

I Know the Music

All sounds have been as music to my listening:
Pacific lamentations of slow bells,
The crunch of boots on blue snow rosy-glistening,
Shuffle of autumn leaves; and all farewells:

Bugles that sadden all the evening air,
And country bells clamouring their last appeals
Before [the] music of the evening prayer;
Bridges, sonorous under carriage wheels.

Gurgle of sluicing surge through hollow rocks,
The gluttonous lapping of the waves on weeds,
Whisper of grass; the myriad-tinkling flocks,
The warbling drawl of flutes and shepherds' reeds.

The orchestral noises of October nights
Blowing ( ) symphonetic storms
Of startled clarions ( )
Drums, rumbling and rolling thunderous and ( ).

Thrilling of throstles in the keen blue dawn,
Bees fumbling and fuming over sainfoin-fields.

by Wilfred Owen
​
 
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Dreams are not the way by Ammornil Henduluin

Dreams are not the way by Ammornil Henduluin

Dreams are not the way

(Awake for us)

Do not be sleeping when the Moon is rising!
Night could be so tender and surprising.
And dreams are just deceit
For the soul's defeat
Uprising.

Do not be sleeping whit my arms on you!
Every moment together shall be true...
And dreams are not the way
For us with love to stay
Imbued.

Do not be sleeping when the stars are fading!
With the morning a new world is invading
And dreams will not be bright
Into the new light
Pervading.

by Ammornil Henduluin
​
 
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On Growing Old by John Masefield

On Growing Old by John Masefield

On Growing Old

Be with me, Beauty, for the fire is dying;
My dog and I are old, too old for roving.
Man, whose young passion sets the spindrift flying,
Is soon too lame to march, too cold for loving.
I take the book and gather to the fire,
Turning old yellow leaves; minute by minute
The clock ticks to my heart. A withered wire,
Moves a thiun ghost of music in the spinet.
I cannot sail your seas, I cannot wander
Your cornland, nor your hill-land, nor your valleys
Ever again, nore share the battle yonder
Where the young knight the broken squadron rallies.
Only stay quiet while my mind remembers
The beauty of fire from the beauty of embers.

Beauty, have pity! for the strong have power,
The rich their wealth, the beautiful their grace,
Summer of man its sunlight and its flower.
Spring-time of man, all April in a face.
Only, as in the jostling in the Strand,
Where the mob thrusts, or loiters, or is loud,
The beggar with the saucer in his hand
Asks only a penny from the passing crowd,
So, from this glittering world with all its fashion,
Its fire, and play of men, its stir, its march,
Let me have wisdom, Beauty, wisdom and passion,
Bread to the soul, rain when the summers parch.
Give me but these, and though the darkness close
Even the night will blossom as the rose.

by John Masefield
​
 
ricardo

ricardo

کاربر حرفه ای
کاربر ممتاز
من از این خوشم میاد :
​

You’re my lover
undercover
You’re my sacred passion and I have no other
You’re Delicious
So Capricious
If I find out you don’t want me I’ll be vicious
Say you love me
and you’ll have me
In your arms forever and I won’t forget it
Say you miss me
Come and kiss me
Take me up to heaven and you won’t regret it
You are the one
You’re my number one
The only treasure I’ll ever have
You are the one
You’re my number one Anything for you ’cause you’re the one I love
You’re a fire
and desire
When I kiss your lips, you know, you take me higher
You’re addiction
my conviction
You’re my passion, my relief, my crucifixion
Never leave me
And believe me
You will be the sun into my raining season
Never leave me
And believe me
In my empty life you’ll be the only reason​
 
nazliii

nazliii

مدیر مهندسی برق مخابرات - متخصص نیمه هادی
 
ceaselife

ceaselife

عضو جدید
شعر مادر ترزا

شعر مادر ترزا

REMEMBER

Remember me when I am gone away


Gone far away into the silent land


When you can no more hold me by the hand


Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay


Remember me when no more day by day


You tell me of our future that you planned


Only remember me; you understand


It will be late to counsel then or pray


Yet if you should forget me for a while


And afterwards remember, do not grieve


For if the darkness and corruption leave


A vestige of the thoughts that once I had


Better by far you should forget and smile


Than that you should remember and be sad





به یاد آر مرا آن زمان که راهی جای دورم،

جایی دور به سوی سرزمینی ساکت و آرام

آن زمان که نه تو دیگر می توانی دست هایم را بگیری ،

و نه من می توانم از توقف دوراهه برگردم

به یاد آر آن زمان که دیگر از برنامه ریزی ات برای آینده امان سخن نمی گویی

فقط مرا به یاد آر، می دانی که برای پند دادن و دعا کردن دیر است.

با این همه اگر می باید مرا مدتی به فراموشی بسپاری

و آنگاه مرا به یاد آری، اندوه مخور

به خاطر آن که اگر آن تاریکی و شرارت ردّ افکاری که من داشتم باقی گذارد

به مراتب بهتر آن است که مرا فراموش کنی و تبسم کنی
تا به یاد آری و اندوهگین باشی
 
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A Song Of Eternity In Time...Sidney Lanier

A Song Of Eternity In Time...Sidney Lanier

A Song Of Eternity In Time

Once, at night, in the manor wood
My Love and I long silent stood,
Amazed that any heavens could
Decree to part us, bitterly repining.
My Love, in aimless love and grief,
Reached forth and drew aside a leaf
That just above us played the thief
And stole our starlight that for us was shining.

A star that had remarked her pain
Shone straightway down that leafy lane,
And wrought his image, mirror-plain,
Within a tear that on her lash hung gleaming.
"Thus Time," I cried, "is but a tear
Some one hath wept 'twixt hope and fear,
Yet in his little lucent sphere
Our star of stars, Eternity, is beaming."

Sidney Lanier ​
 
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My Love Is Like To Ice by Edmund Spenser

My Love Is Like To Ice by Edmund Spenser

My Love Is Like To Ice

My love is like to ice, and I to fire:
How comes it then that this her cold so great
Is not dissolved through my so hot desire,
But harder grows the more I her entreat?
Or how comes it that my exceeding heat
Is not allayed by her heart-frozen cold,
But that I burn much more in boiling sweat,
And feel my flames augmented manifold?
What more miraculous thing may be told,
That fire, which all things melts, should harden ice,
And ice, which is congeal's with senseless cold,
Should kindle fire by wonderful device?
Such is the power of love in gentle mind,
That it can alter all the course of kind.

by Edmund Spenser
​
 
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Garden of Love by William Blake

Garden of Love by William Blake

Garden of Love

I laid me down upon a bank,
Where Love lay sleeping;
I heard among the rushes dank
Weeping, weeping.

Then I went to the heath and the wild,
To the thistles and thorns of the waste;
And they told me how they were beguiled,
Driven out, and compelled to the chaste.

I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen;
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut
And "Thou shalt not," writ over the door;
So I turned to the Garden of Love
That so many sweet flowers bore.

And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tombstones where flowers should be;
And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars my joys and desires.

by William Blake
​
 
E

erfun82

عضو جدید
سلام ، نوشتن شعر انگلیسی بتنهائی و بدون ترجمه کافی نیست شاید تفسیر و ترجمه ها با هم فرق داشته و بازنگری شود

سلام ، نوشتن شعر انگلیسی بتنهائی و بدون ترجمه کافی نیست شاید تفسیر و ترجمه ها با هم فرق داشته و بازنگری شود

:cry:
*زهره* گفت:

My Last Duchess


That's my last Duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now: Fra Pandolf's hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Will't please you sit and look at her? I said
"Fra Pandolf" by design, for never read
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance,
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
the curtain I have drawn for you, but I)
And seemed they would ask me, if they durst,
How such a glance came there; so not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, 'twas not
Her husband's presence only, called that spot
Of joy into the Duchess's cheek: perhaps
Fra Pandolf chanced to say "Her mantle laps
Over my lady's wrist too much," or Paint
Must never hope to reproduce the faint
Half flush that dies along her throat": such stuff
Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough
For calling up that spot of you. She had
A heart--how shall I say?--too soon made glad,
Too easily impressed; she liked whate'er
She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.
Sir, 'twas all one! My favor at her breast,
The dropping of the daylight in the West,
The bough of cherry some officious fool
Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule
She rode with round the terrace--all and each
Would draw from her alike the approving speech,
Or blush, at least. She thanked men--good! but thanked
Somehow--I know not how--as if she ranked
My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name
With anybody's gift. Who'd stoop to blame
This sort of trifling? Even had you skill
In speech--(which I have not)--to make your will
Quite clear to such a one, and say, "Just this
Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss
Or there exceed the mark"--and if she let
Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set
her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse
--E'en then would be some stooping; and I choose
Never to stoop. Oh sir, she smiled, no doubt
Whene'er I passed her; but who passed without
Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;
Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands
As if alive. Will't please you rise? We'll meet
the company below, then. I repeat
The Count your master's known munificence
Is ample warrant that no just pretense
Of mine dowry will be disallowed
Though his fair daughter's self, as I avowed
At starting, is my object. Nay, we'll go down
Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though,
Taming a sea horse, thought a rarity,
Which claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me

By Robert Browning​
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E

erfun82

عضو جدید
سلام مجدد ، آیا شما قادر به ترجمه شعر رابرت براونینگ تحت عنوان آخرین دوشس من هستید؟
 
s_talone

s_talone

کاربر فعال تالار زبان انگلیسی ,
کاربر ممتاز
hi everyone
this is a english poem with if

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting
Or being lied about don't deal in lies
Or being hated don't give way to hating
And yet don't look too good nor talk too wise.
If you can dream and not make dreams your master
If you can think and not make thoughts your aim
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken
And stoop and build 'em up with worn out tools.
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch and toss
And lose and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the will which says to you hold on.
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue
Or walk with kings nor lose the common touch
If neither foes nor loving friends may hurt you
If all men count with you but none too much
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds worth of distance run
Yours is the earth and everything that's in it
And which is more - you'll be a man my son.​
 
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