鄲怎麽讀拚音_儋怎麽讀拚音

很多朋友想了解關於文學的一些資料信息，下麵是(揚升資訊www.balincan8.com)小編整理的與文學相關的內容分享給大家，一起來看看吧。很多朋友想了解關於詩歌的一些資料信息，下麵是(揚升資訊www.balincan8.com)小編整理的與詩歌相關的內容分享給大家，一起來看看吧。

關注中國詩歌網，讓詩歌點亮生活！

鄲怎麽讀拚音_儋怎麽讀拚音

我的中國楊克

有人酸甜，有人麻辣，有人喜原汁原味

八大菜係風靡神州，各不遑讓

當周遊列國，從巴黎到紐約

在刀叉下受虐一周的胃

所有人的味覺，瞬間全被喚醒

炒煮蒸烹的中餐佳肴就是我的祖國

有人粵語京腔，有人西南官話

吳儂軟語與東北大嗓門

少數民族語音更是五花八門

各地方言千差萬別，互相不一定能聽懂

踏上拚音的國度，橫豎撇捺方塊字就是我的祖國

機翼劃過蔚藍的天空

補天的女媧是我的祖國

船舷剪開波濤的雪浪

填海的精衛是我的祖國

日升東方，見追日的誇父

禺穀在望，那一片輝煌是我的祖國

月落西窗，有玉兔嫦娥

記憶中那一陣桂花飄香是我的祖國

一顆竹葉裹的粽子

拋下去汨羅的萬裏驚濤

滿腹柔腸翻滾的《離騷》是我的祖國

一枚枚月餅向天而拜

歲歲年年的懷鄉與思歸是我的祖國

萬戶千家儷采七字之偶，鬥豔一句之奇

四海慶安瀾萬民懷大澤是我的祖國

張燈結彩、點響爆竹、對聯紅紅火火是我的祖國

連年有魚，花生、棗子、石榴……

連蝙蝠也成了吉祥的圖騰

龍、鳳、龜、麒麟，興雲致雨

太平盛世，竹、蘭、菊和文房四寶福澤心靈

就是獨角獸貔貅也能辟邪

喜鵲、鶴、鹿、十二生肖都是我的祖國

驚蟄，候桃花而棠梨而薔薇

春分，望海棠而梨花而木蘭

布穀布穀，種禾割麥

玉秧玉秧，稻花白練

有序多變的二十四節氣是我的祖國

蒼龍連蜷於左，白虎猛踞於右

朱雀奮翼於前，靈龜圈首於後

五行、八卦、二十八星宿還是我的祖國

攀崇山峻嶺，想起頭觸巨峰的共工

乘飛馳高鐵，踩風火輪的哪吒

在最高的神主宰教堂和寺廟的這顆星球

愚公、大禹和張弓搭箭的後羿

不屈服命運的神話就是我的祖國

看見海雕金獅雙頭鷹的國徽

金黃的穀穗和黑鐵的齒輪是我的祖國

我傾倒維納斯的斷臂蒙娜麗莎的微笑

更迷戀反彈琵琶的飛天聊齋的白狐

在音樂廳聽交響樂和花腔女高音

耳邊盈繞《茉莉花》和小提琴《梁祝》

在動物園遇見北極熊和袋鼠

憨態和平的熊貓就是我絲綢柔軟的祖國

歐洲建築那石頭上的史詩

江南庭院草長鶯飛瘦石枯木

關公的忠義黛玉的癡戀

牡丹亭的悲歡西廂記的情色

李白長安一片月杜甫落木蕭蕭的秋興

扇麵上的書法，宣紙上的寫意

哪怕隨藍色多瑙河圓舞曲輕盈曼舞

胸腔裏轟鳴的是冼星海的黃河

浪子回頭金不換是我的祖國

紅山玉豬龍和殷墟的甲骨上

矗立北上廣深簇新的高樓大廈

航天潛海，我依舊懷抱頹敗的小小村落

銀杏樹緩慢生長，讓人痛苦揪心

兩鬢染霜，身體裏流動青春五四的熱血

念茲在茲我永遠夢想的少年中國

選自《詩刊》

My China

by Yang Ke

Some like it sweet and sour, others hot and spicy, or the natural flavors.

Eight major cuisines conquer the hearts of China, each boasts to be the best.

During a grand tour overseas, from Paris to New York,

the stomachs suffered under the reign of knives and forks,

but all taste buds are instantly reawakened

where foods are stir-fried, simmered, steamed, or glazed

into marvelous dishes. This is my motherland.

Some speak Cantonese or Peking Mandarin, others talk the southwestern parlance,

or with a Yangtze soft lilt, or the Manchurian full lungs

Ethnic tongues are even more varied,

and local dialects can be wildly different and mutually unintelligible.

Where pinyin phonetics are used, accompanied by written characters

with strokes going up and down, it is my motherland.

Where the deep blue sky is divided by airplanes

but patched up by goddess Nuwa, it is my motherland.

Where ships cut open the billowing waves,

and an angelic red-footed bird hovered to mend it, it is my motherland.

From where the sun rises to where Kuafu chases it all the way to

the western Yu Valley, that brilliant horizon is my motherland.

The moon rises over the westside window, where goddess Chang’er and her pet rabbit

visit with the familiar osmanthus scent, it is my motherland.

Rice dumplings in bamboo husks, tossed into the churning Miluo River,

where Parting Sorrows the heart-breaking political lament is celebrated, it is my motherland.

Where people offer moon cakes to heaven

when homesickness pervades in mid-autumn, it is my motherland.

Where every home and household exhibit their wits

with seven-word couplets, all one of its kind, it is my motherland.

Where people are jubilant and thankful for peaceful times, it is my motherland.

Where red lanterns are raised, firecrackers are lit,

and the new-year couplets are fiery red, it is my motherland..n

There’ll be running years of surpluses: fish, nuts, dates, pomegranates . . .

even the bat has become an auspicious totem.

Dragon, phoenix, turtle, unicorn bring in spectacular rain clouds.

Bamboo, orchid, chrysanthemum, and the four essentials for calligraphy are food for the soul in good times.

Even Pixiu, the one-horned winged lion, can ward off evil spirits.

Where magpies, cranes, deer, and the zodiac animals thrive, it is my motherland.

In the month of Insect Awakening: peach and Callery pear will bloom, followed by roses.

Around spring equinox, we admire crabapple flowers, then pear blossoms, then magnolias.

When cuckoos croon, it’s time to plant rice and reap winter wheat.

Around summer solstice, rice stalks turn emerald, wearing white flowers.

Where farmers go by twenty-four solar terms, it is my motherland.

Where stars belong to four groups: Green Dragon on the left, White Tiger on the right,

Red Finch in the front, and Sacred Tortoise towards the back,

where the philosophy of five elements, yin-yang, and twenty-eight constellation mansions endures, it is my motherland.

Climbing a mountain, I think of river god Gonggong’s furor when he crashed into giant massifs.

Taking the high-speed rail, I think of Lotus Prince Nezha’s fire wheels.

When Gods are revered in the churches and temples on this planet,

there is a land of many legendary heroes

who refused to yield to fate, this land is my motherland.

Other nations have sea eagle, golden lion, and double-headed eagle as their emblems,

the golden heads of grains and iron gears symbolize my motherland.

Though I admire Venus's disarmed statue and Mona Lisa’s smile,

I’m even more fascinated by the apsaras pipa player, and the flying white fox.

Listening to a symphony or the coloratura soprano in the concert hall,

I cannot dispel the Chinese aria Jasmine and the violin concerto Butterfly Lovers.

When admiring the polar bear and kangaroo at the zoo,

my heart is warmed by the childlike gentle panda from the country of silk, my motherland.

There are epic poems on the stones of European architecture,

in comparison, the courtyards of Yangtse River Delta house tall grass, birds, craggy stones, and fossil wood.

Then, there are General Guangong’s chivalry, Daiyu’s dreams in the Red Chamber,

the bitter happiness at Peony Pavilion, the romance in the Westside Chamber,

Li Bai’s moonlit Chang’an, Du Fu’s autumn melancholy,

calligraphy on the fans, freehand paintings on scrolls.

No matter how graceful the Blue Danube Waltz is,

what’s roaring in my heart is The Yellow River by Xian Xinghai.

The place that embraces the return of its prodigal sons is my motherland.

The pig-dragon jade artifacts from Hongshan and the writings on turtle shells

are the foundation of the modern high-rises in Beijing, Shanghai and Guangzhou.

Having seen the cutting-edge sciences in space and undersea,

I still carry in my bosom a tiny decaying village.

Ginkgo trees take time to grow, people watch them with heartaches and angst.

Both my temples have greyed, but my young heart still resonates with the May-Fourth movement.

The dream of a youthful China is always in my mind.

Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists

Duck Yard Lyricists is a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper Johan Ramaekers.

楊克：當代漢語詩人中一以貫之具有個人化曆史想象力和求真意誌的詩人，其城市詩歌寫作開啟了某種意義上的主體。30多年來，他的現代詩走在“另一條大道上，那裏有廣闊的情感和傳統的支撐，詩人可以大踏步走在人群前麵”。在人民文學出版社和台灣華品文創有限公司等出版《楊克的詩》《有關與無關》《我說出了風的形狀》等11部中文詩集、4部散文隨筆集和1本文集，日本思潮社、美國俄克拉赫馬大學出版社、西班牙薩拉戈薩大學出版社等出版多種外語詩集，詩文收入《中國新文學大係》《中國新詩百年大典》等400種選本。主編《中國新詩年鑒（1998-2017每個年度）》《他們10年詩歌選》《給孩子的100首新詩》等。獲英國“劍橋徐誌摩詩歌獎“、羅馬尼亞出版版權總公司“傑出詩人獎“，廣東魯迅文藝獎、首屆雙年十佳詩人獎等外國、中國大陸和台灣文學獎十多種。在深圳美術館等舉辦過詩書個展。中國作家協會主席團委員，中國作協詩歌委員會副主任、中國詩歌學會副會長。

他們在下棋池淩雲

還要再過些年頭，才分出勝負。

也許不會有結果，因為有人在中途

毫無征兆地離開。一開始

他們並不難過，誰也沒把誰孤零零留下。

他們隻是築城牆，手無寸鐵

卻屏住呼吸或喃喃自語，

像真的掌控著千軍萬馬，

他們以為這遊戲會持續幾十年，

然而提前離開的人不管這些。

即使棋高一著，最終還是無從下手。

他們都哭了。折戟沉沙

疼痛，出現在睡夢中。

那曾經危險的陸地，在每年春天

茂盛起來。他們為失去的

點燃蠟燭，寫下離去的對手的名字

靜待一個個戰事平息。

那時，他們從各自的居所出發，

喝一杯烈酒，策馬而來

開始四國大戰，有人揚鞭

馬鬃就在棋盤上空飄蕩。

他們高聲爭執，用嘴、用手爭奪，

在一個不屬於他們的世界裏

徹夜征戰，直到其中的一個

放下棋子。他們不知道

這麽快，有人出局，並且永遠離開。

選自《詩刊》

They Are Playing Chess

by Chi Lingyun

It will be years before the victor becomes apparent,

but maybe the result won’t be clear as someone may leave

midway without warning. In the beginning

they were not sad because no one left anyone alone.

They were preoccupied in building walls, barehanded,

holding breaths or muttering only a word or two

as if commanding an army, men and horses,

and thought the game would last forever.

But people who left early didn’t care.

Sometimes the best strategist didn’t get to play the winning hand.

People cry. Swords and spears get buried.

Painful dreams recur.

The once-dangerous field turns lush again

every spring. They light candles pining for what’s lost,

writing down the names of the opponents who have left,

hoping the battlefield will soon calm down.

They would set off from their own homes,

gulp down a glass of strong wine and meet up on horseback

to fight in the War of the Four Kingdoms,

and when the whip is raised, one can see

horsehair flying over the chessboard.

They argue loudly and fight with words and hands

for affairs in a farfetched place.

They fight through the night until someone

put down a chip. There’s no way to predict

someone would strike out so soon and never to return.

Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists

Duck Yard Lyricists is a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper Johan Ramaekers.

梧桐天界

——南方有鳥，非梧桐不止

莊子《秋水》

在危崖搭建一座高台，你來不來①

在鄉野修整一所木屋，你來不來

如今我在自己漸將老去的身體裏

騰出一間舊房，你來不來

大樹破壁淩空，向而生

煙花始終驚豔中與世界告別

可我想見證奇跡啊。時間有一扇玄幻之門

看誰更耐心。誰能把夢境變成現實——

身體早已爬滿藤條。我長有犄角

搬運磨盤一樣的天命

掙破一張網，需要多大勇氣

可我還有什麽呢。這幸福而潦草的中年

注①：佛祖說：隻要你搭好高台，我便來說法。

選自《詩經》

Wutong,the Parasol Tree

by Tian Jie

There is in the south a bird, it doesn’t rest but on a parasol tree.

—The Flood of Autumn,by Zhuangzi

If I build a platform on the cliff, will you come

If I fix up a cottage in the countryside, will you come

Now I have freed up an old dwelling

in my steadily aging body, will you come

A tree grows out of a crag, perched free over death,

and, as always, fireworks vanish in flying colors.

Ah, but how I wish to see miracles. Time has a mystery door

that will open for a heart patiently waits. Dreams may come true—

even if vines have taken over the body. I have horns on my head

and am predestined to carry millstones,

it’s but a test of nerve to break away from this web.

What else do I have? This happy and unkempt midlife.

Note 1: it is said that Buddha once said: as long as you build the platform, I will come.

Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists

Duck Yard Lyricists is a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper Johan Ramaekers.

天界，1969年出生，浙江黃岩人，中國作協會員，以詩歌和評論為主。曾參加詩刊社第二十四屆青春詩會。業餘編《浙江詩人》和《黃岩文學》詩歌。

洋嶼燈塔劉偉雄

盡管燈火已隨曆史沉睡

那些羊在草坡上的動作

還是讓我們看到了生動的景致

這些活著的記憶就像

滿坡的水仙花從百年前

一直開放到今天的奇跡

也許懷古會讓鏽跡斑駁

海浪卻蒙著記憶的雲翳

在今天陽光照耀下的燈塔

痛苦的往事正被風吹浪打

望茫茫的海天海峽風

吹在浩蕩的天際

選自《詩刊》

Island Lighthouse

by Liu Weixiong

Even though the light has fallen asleep,

the way the sheep move on the green hill

still lends us a window into its lively past.

Living memories like them are a miracle

same as daffodils lasting for a hundred years.

Perhaps nostalgia spawns mottled rust,

but the sea churns beneath the clouds of memories.

The lighthouse with its painful past,

still sits in the sun, still battered by winds and waves.

See the sky and earth become one. The wind is blowing

into the strait, to where the sea meets the sky.

Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists

Duck Yard Lyricists is a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper Johan Ramaekers.

劉偉雄，1964年3月生於霞浦西洋島，上世紀八十年代初開始業餘文學創作，曾在《人民文學》《詩刊》等報刊發表作品，多次獲省、市文藝“百花獎”及福建省優秀文學作品獎。詩歌入選多種全國選本，出版過詩集《蒼茫時分》《呼吸》(與謝宜興合作)《平原上的樹》；編輯出版《醜石五人詩選》《作家筆下的霞浦》等。係中國作協會員、省作協全委會委員、寧德市作家協會主席。

終別閆畫晴

那年你把我送到門口，彼此無言

你以為我要開口說些什麽

但我沒有

那年你把我送到門口，身後有氤氳的湯

和暖黃色的燭火

出了門，驟然寒徹

入夜，走廊開著窗

頂樓望去，滿城繁星與燈火

我把頭靠在門上

立了許久

選自《詩刊》