Silent Reading Lesson 32: Poetry of carl sandburg (USA)

Carl Sandberg (1878- 1967) wrote a poem called Fog, which left a deep impression on me.

The fog is coming,

Tiptoe through the cat's thin footsteps.

He bent down,

Look down quietly

Seaports and cities,

Go further.

Translated by Zhao Yiheng

Linking the lightness and quietness of fog with cats is vivid and profound. The poet deliberately gives life to the fog, but besides describing its footsteps, he does not portray its specific image, giving people a vague feeling. Like a poet, it seems to look at everything in Chicago with surprise. Finally, it can't restrain its strong curiosity and move forward cautiously, as if to gently touch every corner of the city to satisfy its wishes. In traditional poetry, fog is integrated with all things in nature. No matter what kind of feelings the poet's fog is saturated with, it gives people a feeling of "being born and raised in Sri Lanka". But the relationship between fog and background in this poem is strange, and it is separated again and again. Fog seems to be a foreign thing, and it is entering a new world. It reveals the profound meaning of the changes of the times and is also a witness of the poet's artistic exploration. Reading this poem, it is easy to remind people of China's imagery poems, such as Ma Zhiyuan's Tianjingsha Qiu Si, but it is not only shallow, but also profound and unique.

Seeing a photo of Carl Sandberg holding a guitar and looking gloomily into the distance, the poet who wrote such a series of poems should be like this.

As a poet and biographer, Carl Sandberg was born in a Swedish immigrant family in Fort gayles, Illinois. 19 14, carl sandburg's "Chicago" and eight other poems were published in Poetry magazine, which caused great repercussions and mixed comments. Poems of Chicago published by 19 16 established his position in the field of poetry. Since then, he has published poetry collections, The Corn Stripper (19 18), Smoke and Steel (1920), Western Slate Burned by the Sun (1922) and Good Morning, America (/kloc). He, Wedge Lindsay and edgar lee masters formed the Chicago School of Poetry and became the inheritor of the democratic tradition of American poetry. In addition; Carl Sandberg also wrote a biography of Lincoln (6 volumes, 1926- 1942).

Carl Sandberg was known as the poet laureate of the American industrial age. He draws on a large number of works in real life and shows readers a vivid picture of American industrial society with a broad vision. Formally, carl sandburg's poetry inherits the tradition of free verse initiated by Whitman, which is rough and bold, without syllables and rhyme, and has a natural rhythm. Reading his poems is like Du Fu in the Tang Dynasty, but it is full of modernity.

Once the sunset whispered goodbye.

It is often a short dusk, paving the way for the stars.

They walk evenly across the edges of grasslands and oceans,

Sleep is guaranteed.

There is a sunset dancing goodbye.

They threw half their scarves into the dome,

So I threw it into the dome and threw it over the dome.

There is silk hanging by the ear and a ribbon fluttering around the waist.

Dance, dance goodbye to you. Sleep time

Turn slightly, because I'm dreaming.

Translated by Xing Guangzu

I want to go to the beach, the fields,

Tears, laughter.

I thought about the home I built—

It was blown away by the wind again.

I want to party,

But every party is a farewell.

I think of the stars running in loneliness,

The orioles are in pairs, and the sunset is crazy.

Disappear into the darkness.

I want to cross the vast universe,

Go to the next planet, go to the last planet.

I want to leave a few tears,

And some laughter.

Olympic bid translation

Maybe he trusts me, maybe he doesn't trust me,

Maybe I will marry him, maybe I won't,

Maybe the wind on the grassland,

Maybe it's the wind on the ocean.

Somewhere, someone, maybe say.

I'll put my head on his shoulder,

When he asks me, I will say: OK.

Maybe.

Olympic bid translation

Between two dark walls

Stick to the iron law there,

Imitate the voice of desire.

People who are tired of the past

Shrugged

Throw their laughter into trouble.

Milton opened the gates of hell for us.

Let's have a look.

Dante did the same thing.

Every hell is unique.

One is Milton's and the other is Dante's.

Milton wrote everything about him.

Hell on earth.

Dante wrote everything. his

Hell on earth.

If you open your hell for me

I opened my hell for you.

They will be two unique hells,

Each of us showed our

Hell on earth.

Yours is hell, mine is another hell.

Translated by Zhou Jin

Let Austerlitz and Waterloo die like mountains,

Shovel them into the pit and let me work-

I am grass; I covered everything up.

Let Gettysburg pile up like a mountain,

Let Ipsos and Verdun die like mountains,

Shovel them into the pit and let me work.

Two years, ten years, so the passenger asked the flight attendant:

What is this place?

Where are we?

I am grass.

Let me work.

Bai Fei translation

The frost loosened the corn husk,

Sunshine, rain, wind

All the corn husks have been loosened,

Men and women are just helping,

Everyone is a corn peeler,

I saw them, at night in the west,

In the smoky red dust.

Oh, mother prairie, I am one of your children.

I love the prairie and my heart is full of painful love.

I'm not pursuing anything here. Just looking forward to another sunrise,

A bright moon burns in the sky and a bright moon is reflected in the river.

I talk about new cities, new people,

I'm telling you, the past is a bucket of ash,

I'm telling you, the wind stopped yesterday,

This is the sunset in the west.

I tell you, there is nothing else in the world.

There is only one ocean full of tomorrow,

Fill tomorrow's sky,

I'm the brother of the corn peeler. They said that at sunset

Tomorrow is still a working day.

Translated by Zhao Yiheng

Please put me on the anvil, oh god,

Hit me, hit me, beat me into a crowbar.

Let me slide across the ancient wall,

Let me loosen the old foundation.

Please put me on the anvil, my God,

Hit me, hit me, beat me to a nail,

Nail me in, tighten the beams of skyscrapers,

Install me on the main beam with red-hot rivets,

Let me make a big nail to pull the edge of the skyscraper across the deep blue night sky.

Into a silvery white star.

Translated by Zhao Yiheng

People will live,

People will live if you study and make mistakes.

They were cheated, betrayed, and then betrayed,

Return to the fertile land, take root again,

People have the ability to make a comeback,

Even if you laugh, you can't laugh off their ability.

An earth-shattering drama, a giant elephant is resting.

People always look tired and lack sleep, like a mystery.

Many units are saying:

I make a living,

I only earn enough money to live,

But it takes up all my time.

In order to give me more time,

I can do more for myself,

Or do more for others,

I can read and write,

We can talk about God,

Find out the truth,

It takes time.

I wish I had time.

People have two sides: sadness and joy;

Heroes and hooligans, elves and orangutans, twist

Open your mouth like a blood basin and complain: "them!"

It's a trick to buy me off and betray me ... ...

One day I will run away ... "

As long as you can make big strides,

Stepping on the edge of survival needs,

Crossing the cold boundary of life,

People will get,

Rituals buried deep in bones,

Light lighter than bone,

Leisure to think about things,

Dance, singing, legend,

Or dreaming time,

As long as we can cross it like this.

On the one hand, it is restricted by the five senses,

On the one hand, it is the endless pursuit of infinity,

People obey the command of work and stomach,

But if there is an opportunity, at the same time, I will be eager.

Five senses of the light outside the prison,

A monument more eternal than hunger and death.

This desire is the real life,

Although dissolute and shameless people have destroyed and defiled it.

But this interest in light and monuments

Desire is the real life.

People know the salt in seawater.

The power of the breeze

Is hitting every corner of the earth.

People think that the earth is

The tomb of rest and the cradle of hope.

Who else speaks for mankind?

They have nothing to do with constellations and cosmic laws.

Syllables and rhythms are in perfect harmony.

People are colorful,

Just like on a moving grass background,

A spectroscope constantly analyzes light,

An organ is playing different tunes,

Some colorful poems illuminated by magic lamps

Inside, the sea spits fog,

The fog cleared away after the rain.

Sunset time in Labrador is shortened,

Become a bright star at night.

Under the northern lights,

Keep quiet.

The sky in the steel works is raging,

In the dark gray mist,

Sparks generate into white lightning,

People have to wait a long, long time.

Mankind will eventually win.

Brother and brother are finally going to stand together:

The old anvil laughed at the broken hammer.

Some people cannot be bought.

He who is born in fire is content with fire.

The constellation is not noisy at all.

You can't keep the wind blowing.

Time is a great teacher.

Who can live without hope?

In the dark, there is a lot of sadness.

The National People's Congress has advanced.

At night, when I look up, there are stars everywhere.

Forever; The National People's Congress strides forward:

Where are you going? What's next?

Translated by Xing Guangzu