艾略特《荒原》

艾略特《荒原》解析在英国仍以“⽇不落帝国”⾃居之时，艾略特就独具慧眼地谱写了西⽅世界现代精神⽂明的“悲怆奏鸣曲”——《荒原》，他多视域、多层次地展现了⼀战后西⽅⼴阔的社会⽣活。

托马斯·斯特尔那斯·艾略特诗⼈将饱经战争蹂躏、哀鸿遍野的欧洲⼤陆，描绘成⼀⽚乌云蔽⽇、空⽓窒息、⽣命之⽔枯竭、情欲之⽕燃烧的⼴漠荒原，充斥着⼀个个死魂灵般的⿁魅世界：不仅是满⽬疮痍的现实社会的荒原，更是⼈们⼼⽬中的荒原，⼀座牧场。

《荒原》不仅是他本⼈，更是欧洲⼀战后普遍存在的悲观失落、迷惘空虚的异化社会情绪和异化社会⼼理的浓缩，表现出整整⼀代⼈对西⽅现状敌视沮丧情绪的极点。

01 诗歌结构：犹如⼀曲西⽅社会送殡的挽歌《荒原》全长432⾏，艾略特把浩繁的现代⽣活安放在远古神话提供的框架⾥，将长诗分为《死者葬仪》、《对弈》、《⽕诫》、《⽔⾥的死亡》、《雷霆的话》五章，颇似贝多芬晚期创作的五乐章钢琴奏鸣曲形式，最著名的如《悲怆奏鸣曲》，相对独⽴⼜彼此呼应，低回哀怨，恰似⼀曲西⽅社会送殡的挽歌。

《荒原》各章长短不⼀、节奏、重⼼、场景、说话⼈物各不相同，但⼜统⼀在总标题下；“圣杯传奇”与诗的布局，像⼀对⼀明⼀暗的平⾏结构，使⽆序的外表下呈现出潜存的秩序，内在结构完整⽽严谨，形成⼀部浑然⼀体的钢琴奏鸣曲。

由于《荒原》不是叙事，⽽是以各种互不关联的戏剧性场⾯组成的主题变奏曲，诗中没有完整的圣杯故事，却处处有投影。

诗歌中每⼀暗⽰性形象都可构成⼀连串感性和理性的复合联想，使其隐喻的意象极具张⼒，为《荒原》提供了总体结构和象征语⾔，这就使《荒原》从⼀般的内容中突破出来，产⽣出与众不同的特殊效果，具有极强的历史穿透⼒与暗⽰⼒：赎救现代西⽅⽂明的衰落，只能期盼中世纪传说中圣杯神⼒的显现。

⽽且，艾略特在《荒原》的神话创意中，不仅把意义装载⼊全诗表述、圣杯隐现这⼀对明暗平⾏结构，⽽且把作品构织成⼀个由意象组成的表层结构、和⼀个由神话原型组成的深层结构，并通过原型的零乱破碎的提⽰，让读者掘出意象表层之下的真正含义。

艾略特《荒原The Waste Land.》（原文）作者: T.S. Eliot (1888–1965). The Waste Land. 1922.The Waste LandI. THE BURIAL OF THE DEADAPRIL is the cruellest month, breedingLilacs out of the dead land, mixingMemory and desire, stirringDull roots with spring rain.Winter kept us warm, covering 5Earth in forgetful snow, feedingA little life with dried tubers.Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade, And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten, 10And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch. And when we were children, staying at the archduke's, My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,And I was frightened. He said, Marie, 15Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.In the mountains, there you feel free.I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter. What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, 20You cannot say, or guess, for you know onlyA heap of broken images, where the sun beats,And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,And the dry stone no sound of water. OnlyThere is shadow under this red rock, 25(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),And I will show you something different from either Your shadow at morning striding behind youOr your shadow at evening rising to meet you;I will show you fear in a handful of dust. 30Frisch weht der WindDer Heimat zu.Mein Irisch Kind,Wo weilest du?'You gave me hyacinths first a year ago; 35'They called me the hyacinth girl.'—Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden, Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could notSpeak, and my eyes failed, I was neitherLiving nor dead, and I knew nothing, 40Looking into the heart of light, the silence.Od' und leer das Meer.Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,Had a bad cold, neverthelessIs known to be the wisest woman in Europe, 45With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she,Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,(Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!)Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,The lady of situations. 50Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel, And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,Which I am forbidden to see. I do not findThe Hanged Man. Fear death by water. 55I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:One must be so careful these days.Unreal City, 60Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,I had not thought death had undone so many.Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,And each man fixed his eyes before his feet. 65Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hoursWith a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying 'Stetson! 'You who were with me in the ships at Mylae! 70'That corpse you planted last year in your garden,'Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?'Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?'Oh keep the Dog far hence, that's friend to men,'Or with his nails he'll dig it up again! 75'You! hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable,—mon frère!' II. A GAME OF CHESSTHE Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne,Glowed on the marble, where the glassHeld up by standards wrought with fruited vinesFrom which a golden Cupidon peeped out 80(Another hid his eyes behind his wing)Doubled the flames of sevenbranched candelabra Reflecting light upon the table asThe glitter of her jewels rose to meet it,From satin cases poured in rich profusion; 85In vials of ivory and coloured glassUnstoppered, lurked her strange synthetic perfumes, Unguent, powdered, or liquid—troubled, confusedAnd drowned the sense in odours; stirred by the airThat freshened from the window, these ascended 90In fattening the prolonged candle-flames,Flung their smoke into the laquearia,Stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling.Huge sea-wood fed with copperBurned green and orange, framed by the coloured stone, 95 In which sad light a carvèd dolphin swam.Above the antique mantel was displayedAs though a window gave upon the sylvan sceneThe change of Philomel, by the barbarous kingSo rudely forced; yet there the nightingale 100Filled all the desert with inviolable voiceAnd still she cried, and still the world pursues,'Jug Jug' to dirty ears.And other withered stumps of timeWere told upon the walls; staring forms 105Leaned out, leaning, hushing the room enclosed. Footsteps shuffled on the stair.Under the firelight, under the brush, her hairSpread out in fiery pointsGlowed into words, then would be savagely still. 110'My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.'Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak.'What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?'I never know what you are thinking. Think.'I think we are in rats' alley 115Where the dead men lost their bones.'What is that noise?'The wind under the door.'What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?' Nothing again nothing. 120'Do'You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember 'Nothing?'I rememberThose are pearls that were his eyes. 125'Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?'ButO O O O that Shakespeherian Rag—It's so elegantSo intelligent 130'What shall I do now? What shall I do?''I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street'With my hair down, so. What shall we do to-morrow?'What shall we ever do?'The hot water at ten. 135And if it rains, a closed car at four.And we shall play a game of chess,Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door. When Lil's husband got demobbed, I said—I didn't mince my words, I said to her myself, 140HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIMENow Albert's coming back, make yourself a bit smart.He'll want to know what you done with that money he gave you To get yourself some teeth. He did, I was there.You have them all out, Lil, and get a nice set, 145He said, I swear, I can't bear to look at you.And no more can't I, I said, and think of poor Albert,He's been in the army four years, he wants a good time,And if you don't give it him, there's others will, I said.Oh is there, she said. Something o' that, I said. 150Then I'll know who to thank, she said, and give me a straight look. HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIMEIf you don't like it you can get on with it, I said.Others can pick and choose if you can't.But if Albert makes off, it won't be for lack of telling. 155You ought to be ashamed, I said, to look so antique.(And her only thirty-one.)I can't help it, she said, pulling a long face,It's them pills I took, to bring it off, she said.(She's had five already, and nearly died of young George.) 160 The chemist said it would be alright, but I've never been the same. You are a proper fool, I said.Well, if Albert won't leave you alone, there it is, I said,What you get married for if you don't want children?HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME 165Well, that Sunday Albert was home, they had a hot gammon,And they asked me in to dinner, to get the beauty of it hot—HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIMEHURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIMEGoonight Bill. Goonight Lou. Goonight May. Goonight. 170Ta ta. Goonight. Goonight.Good night, ladies, good night, sweet ladies, good night, good night. III. THE FIRE SERMONTHE river's tent is broken: the last fingers of leafClutch and sink into the wet bank. The windCrosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed. 175 Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers,Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette endsOr other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed. And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors; 180 Departed, have left no addresses.By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept...Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song,Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long.But at my back in a cold blast I hear 185The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear.A rat crept softly through the vegetationDragging its slimy belly on the bankWhile I was fishing in the dull canalOn a winter evening round behind the gashouse 190Musing upon the king my brother's wreckAnd on the king my father's death before him.White bodies naked on the low damp groundAnd bones cast in a little low dry garret,Rattled by the rat's foot only, year to year. 195But at my back from time to time I hearThe sound of horns and motors, which shall bringSweeney to Mrs. Porter in the spring.O the moon shone bright on Mrs. PorterAnd on her daughter 200They wash their feet in soda waterEt, O ces voix d'enfants, chantant dans la coupole!Twit twit twitJug jug jug jug jug jugSo rudely forc'd. 205TereuUnreal CityUnder the brown fog of a winter noonMr. Eugenides, the Smyrna merchantUnshaven, with a pocket full of currants 210C.i.f. London: documents at sight,Asked me in demotic FrenchTo luncheon at the Cannon Street HotelFollowed by a weekend at the Metropole.At the violet hour, when the eyes and back 215Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits Like a taxi throbbing waiting,I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives,Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can seeAt the violet hour, the evening hour that strives 220 Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea,The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lightsHer stove, and lays out food in tins.Out of the window perilously spreadHer drying combinations touched by the sun's last rays, 225 On the divan are piled (at night her bed)Stockings, slippers, camisoles, and stays.I Tiresias, old man with wrinkled dugs Perceived the scene, and foretold the rest—I too awaited the expected guest. 230He, the young man carbuncular, arrives,A small house agent's clerk, with one bold stare, One of the low on whom assurance sitsAs a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire.The time is now propitious, as he guesses, 235 The meal is ended, she is bored and tired, Endeavours to engage her in caressesWhich still are unreproved, if undesired. Flushed and decided, he assaults at once; Exploring hands encounter no defence; 240His vanity requires no response,And makes a welcome of indifference.(And I Tiresias have foresuffered allEnacted on this same divan or bed;I who have sat by Thebes below the wall 245 And walked among the lowest of the dead.) Bestows on final patronising kiss,And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit... She turns and looks a moment in the glass, Hardly aware of her departed lover; 250Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass: 'Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over.' When lovely woman stoops to folly andPaces about her room again, alone,She smoothes her hair with automatic hand, 255 And puts a record on the gramophone.'This music crept by me upon the waters'And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street.O City city, I can sometimes hearBeside a public bar in Lower Thames Street, 260 The pleasant whining of a mandolineAnd a clatter and a chatter from withinWhere fishmen lounge at noon: where the wallsOf Magnus Martyr holdInexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold. 265 The river sweatsOil and tarThe barges driftWith the turning tideRed sails 270WideTo leeward, swing on the heavy spar.The barges washDrifting logsDown Greenwich reach 275Past the Isle of Dogs.Weialala leiaWallala leialalaElizabeth and LeicesterBeating oars 280The stern was formedA gilded shellRed and goldThe brisk swellRippled both shores 285Southwest windCarried down streamThe peal of bellsWhite towersWeialala leia 290Wallala leialala'Trams and dusty trees.Highbury bore me. Richmond and Kew Undid me. By Richmond I raised my knees Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe.' 295'My feet are at Moorgate, and my heart Under my feet. After the eventHe wept. He promised "a new start".I made no comment. What should I resent?''On Margate Sands. 300I can connectNothing with nothing.The broken fingernails of dirty hands.My people humble people who expect Nothing.' 305la laTo Carthage then I cameBurning burning burning burningO Lord Thou pluckest me outO Lord Thou pluckest 310burningIV. DEATH BY WATERPHLEBAS the Phoenician, a fortnight dead, Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep seas swell And the profit and loss.A current under sea 315Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fellHe passed the stages of his age and youthEntering the whirlpool.Gentile or JewO you who turn the wheel and look to windward, 320 Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.V. WHAT THE THUNDER SAIDAFTER the torchlight red on sweaty facesAfter the frosty silence in the gardensAfter the agony in stony placesThe shouting and the crying 325Prison and place and reverberationOf thunder of spring over distant mountainsHe who was living is now deadWe who were living are now dyingWith a little patience 330Here is no water but only rockRock and no water and the sandy roadThe road winding above among the mountainsWhich are mountains of rock without waterIf there were water we should stop and drink 335 Amongst the rock one cannot stop or thinkSweat is dry and feet are in the sandIf there were only water amongst the rockDead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit 340There is not even silence in the mountainsBut dry sterile thunder without rainThere is not even solitude in the mountainsBut red sullen faces sneer and snarlFrom doors of mudcracked housesIf there were water 345And no rockIf there were rockAnd also waterAnd waterA spring 350A pool among the rockIf there were the sound of water onlyNot the cicadaAnd dry grass singingBut sound of water over a rock 355Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees Drip drop drip drop drop drop dropBut there is no waterWho is the third who walks always beside you? When I count, there are only you and I together 360 But when I look ahead up the white roadThere is always another one walking beside you Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hoodedI do not know whether a man or a woman—But who is that on the other side of you? 365 What is that sound high in the airMurmur of maternal lamentationWho are those hooded hordes swarmingOver endless plains, stumbling in cracked earth Ringed by the flat horizon only 370What is the city over the mountainsCracks and reforms and bursts in the violet airFalling towersJerusalem Athens AlexandriaVienna London 375UnrealA woman drew her long black hair out tightAnd fiddled whisper music on those stringsAnd bats with baby faces in the violet lightWhistled, and beat their wings 380And crawled head downward down a blackened wallAnd upside down in air were towersTolling reminiscent bells, that kept the hoursAnd voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells. In this decayed hole among the mountains 385In the faint moonlight, the grass is singingOver the tumbled graves, about the chapelThere is the empty chapel, only the wind's home.It has no windows, and the door swings,Dry bones can harm no one. 390Only a cock stood on the rooftreeCo co rico co co ricoIn a flash of lightning. Then a damp gustBringing rainGanga was sunken, and the limp leaves 395Waited for rain, while the black cloudsGathered far distant, over Himavant.The jungle crouched, humped in silence.Then spoke the thunderD A 400Datta: what have we given?My friend, blood shaking my heartThe awful daring of a moment's surrenderWhich an age of prudence can never retractBy this, and this only, we have existed 405Which is not to be found in our obituariesOr in memories draped by the beneficent spiderOr under seals broken by the lean solicitorIn our empty roomsD A 410Dayadhvam: I have heard the keyTurn in the door once and turn once onlyWe think of the key, each in his prisonThinking of the key, each confirms a prisonOnly at nightfall, aetherial rumours 415Revive for a moment a broken CoriolanusD ADamyata: The boat respondedGaily, to the hand expert with sail and oarThe sea was calm, your heart would have responded 420 Gaily, when invited, beating obedientTo controlling handsI sat upon the shoreFishing, with the arid plain behind meShall I at least set my lands in order? 425London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down Poi s'ascose nel foco che gli affinaQuando fiam ceu chelidon—O swallow swallowLe Prince d'Aquitaine à la tour abolieThese fragments I have shored against my ruins 430Why then Ile fit you. Hieronymo's mad againe. Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.Shantih shantih shantih。

外国文学经典作品解读——艾略特：《荒原》内容梗概全诗由5章构成。

第1章《死者葬仪》，标题出自英国教会出葬仪式。

死亡是这一章的主题。

诗歌在含混的意识中开场。

四月是残酷的季节，以记忆和欲望折磨着人们。

在玛丽的回忆中浮现出往昔的静好岁月，而如今面目全非：树已枯死，偶像已破碎，焦石间没有流水的声音，大地一片荒凉。

女相士也为此感到困惑，她用纸牌给人算命，得到了死亡的预言，因为她找不到那被绞死的人耶稣，于是人注定无法获得救赎。

在冬日破晓的黄雾下，人群涌过伦敦桥，死亡已经毁坏了他们。

我想知道，复活是否为时不远？第2章《对弈》，标题出自英国剧作家托马斯密德尔顿的同名剧作，本是一个淫乱故事，诗人取其意喻指现代人的道德堕落。

此章分两个场景。

在富丽堂皇的卧室里，一位上流社会的无聊贵妇正在胡思乱想，她渴望所谓的传奇爱情，以为传说中的翡绿眉拉就是一个典型，而这却是一个因淫乱而复仇的悲剧。

下一场景，在低等酒馆里，丽儿和女伴谈着私情、堕胎，如何对付退伍归来的丈夫。

两个地位不同的女性代表了社会普遍的堕落风气。

第3章《火戒》，标题出自佛教教义。

火有双重含义：是情欲之火，也是使人再生的净化之火。

这章以神话中具有穿透人内心力量的双性人帖瑞西士的视角来观察，发现可爱的泰晤士河畔已经不见了仙女的踪影，只看见公寓里一个女打字员和一个长疙瘩的青年有欲无爱的交合。

不可救药的精神颓败。

再生似乎已无希望。

第4章《水里的死亡》，水亦指泛滥的情欲。

女相士预言的腓尼基人之死在此章获得应验。

他是在欲望和金钱的漩涡中丧生的现代人的象征。

第5章《雷霆的话》充分展开了探索的主题。

诗人再次描绘了一幅荒原的景象：大地荒废，布满岩石，找不到一滴水。

水在这里被赋予再生的含义。

荒原通过三个意象展现：耶稣复活后去埃摩司的途中，而门徒看不见他的身影；寻找圣杯的武士走向空无一人的教堂；鱼王坐在岸上垂钓，背后是那干旱的荒原。

荒原是否能恢复生机？人能否获得拯救？一切都未知。

在雷霆同情，克制，平安的告诫中，诗歌结束。

英国诗人托马斯•斯特恩斯▪艾略特名作《荒原》赏析托马斯•斯特恩斯▪艾略特，英国诗人、剧作家、文学评论家，诗歌现代派运动领袖。

他出生于美国密苏里州的圣路易斯，父亲经商，母亲在师范学院任教，家境富足而文化气息浓厚。

1914年，从哈佛大学毕业的艾略特与诗人庞德相识并且结为好友。

1922年，艾略特发表《荒原》，该作被评论界看作是20世纪最有影响力的一部诗作。

读诗，本来就没有标准答案。

同一首诗，不同的读者往往能够读出不同的感觉和味道。

读到《荒原》时，许多人都深受震撼。

《荒原》这首诗共计433行，由“死者的葬礼、弈棋、火诫、死在水里、雷霆说的话”5部分组成，为读者展现了一幅充斥着混乱与虚无、生存与毁灭、希望与绝望的世界图景。

在笔者看来，该诗仅仅是个人的、完全无足轻重的、对生活不满的发泄。

全作涉及大量神话、宗教传说和文学典故，艾略特将一个个意象、场面、对话片断、自然风光等叠加在一起，有意打破原有的秩序，使各种元素发生新的化学反应，从而形成一种疏离感、新奇感和生涩感。

通过《荒原》，我们得以感受艾略特诗作的特点和风格。

艾略特的诗歌，通过无拘无束的想象、令人眼花缭乱的意象以及跳跃飞腾的节律，昭示了时代和世界的荒诞无序。

如果读者力求找到诗行之间的确定性联系，往往会无功而返，且会在作者选取的随机性意象面前晕头转向。

在看似繁华光鲜、朝气蓬勃的时代里，艾略特凭借着诗人独有的敏锐气息，捕捉到光明背后的混乱、无序和腐坏。

有人认为艾略特的诗歌太过跳跃、繁杂、不拘一格、令人摸不着头脑，但他恰恰是以诗歌的独特节奏来昭示现代世界中的琐屑与阴晦。

大概每个人这一生都至少有那么一次，猛然意识到自己生活在空无一物的荒原之上，有种无所凭依的恐慌和无助。

绝望过、孤独过、期待过，甚至直面过死亡，感到不论做什么事情都无比空虚、毫无生气。

但是，冥冥之中似乎又有什么在这片荒原之下蠢蠢欲动，从天空中传来雷鸣，在大地深处暗自积蓄着某种力量。

清醒的认知和敏锐的洞察力，让艾略特感悟到了身处荒原一般的冷酷和无力，而他也将这种感受记录了下来，直击人们柔软的内心。

在我的结束是我的开始--对艾略特《荒原》生死主题的探析
《荒原》是托马斯·斯特恩斯·艾略特的一部具有划时代意义的佳作,全诗描写了身处西方现代文明中人们精神上和肉体上的生与死。

从诗篇开始时提出死亡命题,接着以神话框架为主体对新生意义加以探寻,最后在长诗的末尾处升华死亡之后的新生主题,给人以无限的新生命,新未来的希望。

基于此,本文将从这三个方面对《荒原》文本进行分析,以期揭示出艾略特本着"在我的结束是我的开始"核心观念的生死旨意。

论艾略特《荒原》的反思意识艾略特是20世纪最重要的诗人之一，他的作品《荒原》是他最具影响力的作品之一。

这首诗以其深刻的思想和对当代社会的反思而闻名，尤其是对现代社会的空虚和精神困境提出了一种深刻的反思。

艾略特的《荒原》对现代社会的反思意识非常深刻，这首诗的精神内涵对我们今天的社会仍然有着重要的启示意义。

艾略特的《荒原》是一首充满了对现代生活的批判和反思的诗歌。

艾略特在诗中描绘了一个充满荒凉和绝望的现代社会，他认为现代社会已经失去了宗教信仰和道德价值观，导致了人们精神上的空虚和困惑。

在《荒原》中，艾略特描绘了现代社会的麻木和冷漠，以及人们对传统价值观的放弃和迷失。

这种现代社会的精神困境和荒芜状况让艾略特深感不安，他通过诗歌表达了对这种现状的深刻关注和反思，展现了一种强烈的反思意识。

艾略特的反思意识体现在他对现代社会的批判和警示之中。

他通过对人们精神空虚和道德沦丧的描写，揭示了现代社会的真实面貌，呼吁人们重新审视自己的生活方式和价值取向。

他在诗中对社会的冷漠和麻木提出了质疑，并通过对精神寂静和信仰缺失的描述，表达了对现代社会的深刻忧虑。

艾略特希望通过自己的诗歌唤醒人们对现实的思考，引发人们对社会生活的深刻反思，从而改变现状，重建价值观和道德规范。

在《荒原》中，艾略特通过对现代社会的描绘和批判，表达了对传统价值观和信仰的追求。

他强调了对人类精神世界的重视，希望人们能够重拾对宗教和道德的信仰，重新建立起自己的精神世界。

艾略特认为现代社会的精神荒漠和迷失不仅仅是一种社会问题，更是一种对人类本质的忽视和背离。

他希望通过自己的诗歌激发人们对精神世界的关注和追求，让人们从物质生活中解脱出来，寻求内心的宁静和满足。

艾略特的《荒原》对现代社会的反思意识在今天依然具有重要的现实意义。

现代社会依然存在着道德沦丧和价值观模糊的问题，人们的精神追求和内心满足依然面临着挑战和困扰。

艾略特的诗歌不仅是对现代社会的一次深刻反思，更是对人类精神世界的一次呼唤和感召。

荒原艾略特原文及解读荒原艾略特是美国诗人T.S.艾略特的代表作之一，该诗以其复杂的结构、深刻的哲学思考和充满象征意味的语言而闻名于世。

原文如下：We are the hollow menWe are the stuffed menLeaning togetherHeadpiece filled with straw. Alas!Our dried voices, whenWe whisper togetherAre quiet and meaninglessAs wind in dry grassOr rats" feet over broken glassIn our dry cellarShape without form, shade without colour,Paralysed force, gesture without motion;Those who have crossedWith direct eyes, to death"s other KingdomRemember us--if at all--not as lostViolent souls, but onlyAs the hollow menThe stuffed men.解读：诗歌的第一部分，描绘了一个群体——“空洞的人”，他们没有灵魂，只有外壳。

他们被填充，但内心却是空洞的，仿佛一具用稻草填充的人偶。

他们倚靠在一起，带着用稻草填充的头盔，在沙漠般的环境中，他们枯干的声音相互耳语，却毫无意义。

第二部分，通过描述这些人物的外在形象来呈现他们的精神状态——他们是形态空洞的，没有色彩的，是一种瘫痪不前的力量，是没有动作的手势。

这里作者使用了“形状没有形式”和“阴影没有颜色”来描绘这些人物，强调他们的虚无和缺乏。

最后一部分，诗人提到那些“以直视死亡王国的目光渡过去”的人，但即使他们在记忆中想起这些“空洞的人”，他们也只会被看作是“空洞的人”，而不是“失落的暴力灵魂”。

《荒原》艺术特色探论《荒原》是 20 世纪象征主义作家艾略特创作的诗歌作品，具有深刻的思想和哲学内涵，同时也是一部充满艺术特色的作品。

以下是关于《荒原》艺术特色的几点探论:1. 内心独白的运用：艾略特在《荒原》中广泛地运用内心独白手法，通过直接叙述诗人的内心感受和思维来表现社会的荒凉和精神的疲惫。

这种内心独白式的诗歌语言，使作品具有强烈的具有强烈的情感冲击力和深度。

2. 自由联想的运用：艾略特在《荒原》中运用了自由联想手法，使得诗歌中的情绪和思想得以自由流淌，从而达到了情感和思想的深度。

这种自由联想的手法，使得作品充满了想象力和创造力，同时也增强了作品的感染力。

3. 戏剧化的场景中：艾略特在《荒原》中将诗中的人物放在戏剧化的场景中，通过场景的切换和对比来表现人物的内心和社会的荒凉。

这种戏剧化的手法，使作品更具有表现力和感染力，让读者能够更深刻地感受到社会的阴暗和人性的扭曲。

4. 形象暗示：艾略特在《荒原》中通过形象暗示来表达自己的思想和情感。

他运用了大量的象征和比喻，以此来暗示人物的内心和社会的荒凉。

这种形象暗示的手法，使作品更具有诗意和哲理性，让读者能够更深刻地感受到诗人的思考和感悟。

5. 大量运用文学和历史的典故：艾略特在《荒原》中运用了大量文学和历史的典故，以此来丰富作品的文化内涵和表现力。

这种典故的运用，使作品更具有历史感和文化底蕴，让读者能够更深刻地感受到诗人对文化的思考和社会的反思。

综上所述，《荒原》的艺术特色主要体现在内心独白、自由联想、戏剧化场景、形象暗示和典故运用等方面。

这些艺术特色使得作品表达了深刻的思想和哲学内涵，同时也增强了作品的感染力和表现力，成为了一部充满艺术魅力的经典诗歌作品。

艾略特荒原读后感《艾略特<荒原>读后感》初读艾略特的《荒原》，说实话，我是有些懵的。

那些跳跃的意象、破碎的语句，就像一团乱麻，让我一时间找不到头绪。

可当我耐着性子，一次又一次地走进那片“荒原”，我才渐渐感受到了其中的魅力。

在《荒原》中，艾略特描绘了一个荒芜、空虚、混乱的世界。

这个世界里，人们的精神空虚，道德沦丧，爱情变得虚伪，生活失去了方向。

这让我想起了自己曾经的一段经历。

那是一个夏天，天气异常炎热。

我走在城市的街头，周围是熙熙攘攘的人群和川流不息的车辆。

每个人都似乎有着自己的目的地，只有我，漫无目的地游荡着。

我路过一家咖啡店，门口坐着一对年轻的情侣。

女生化着精致的妆容，穿着时尚的裙子，男生则穿着整洁的衬衫，戴着一副眼镜。

他们坐在那里，面前放着两杯咖啡，却没有任何交流。

女生不停地刷着手机，脸上没有一丝表情，男生则望着窗外，眼神空洞。

那一刻，我突然觉得他们就像是《荒原》里的人物，看似在一起，心却相隔甚远。

我继续往前走，来到了一个公园。

公园里有很多人，有老人在树下乘凉，有孩子在滑梯上玩耍，还有年轻人在跑步。

本应是充满生机的场景，可我却感觉到了一种莫名的孤独。

老人们坐在那里，沉默不语，仿佛在回忆着过去的美好时光；孩子们在玩耍，可他们的笑声听起来却那么空洞；年轻人在跑步，汗水湿透了他们的衣服，但他们的眼神中却没有丝毫的快乐。

我找了一个长椅坐下，看着眼前的这一切，心中充满了困惑。

这难道就是我们所追求的生活吗？我们在这个繁华的世界里忙碌着，却不知道自己真正想要的是什么。

这时，我看到一个卖花的小女孩。

她穿着朴素的衣服，手里拿着一束束鲜花，在人群中穿梭着。

她的脸上洋溢着灿烂的笑容，那笑容是那么纯真，那么美好。

她走到每一个人面前，推销着她的花。

有些人无视她，有些人则不耐烦地摆摆手，但她丝毫没有受到影响，依然充满热情地继续着。

我叫住了她，买了一束花。

她感激地看着我，说了声谢谢。

那一刻，我从她的眼睛里看到了希望，看到了一种在这个“荒原”世界里难得的真诚和善良。