Emily Dickinson关于死亡的诗歌汇总

英文诗词:感受狄金森的“死亡”英文诗词:感受狄金森的“死亡”之一：多远至天堂How far is it to Heaven?As far as Death this way—Of River or of Ridge beyondWas no discovery.How far is it to Hell?As far as Death this way—How far left hand the SepulcherDefies Topography.多远至天堂?其遥如死亡;越过山与河,不知路何方.多远至地狱?其遥如死亡;多远左边坟,地形学难量.之二：对人类而言太晚It was too late for Man -But early, yet for God -Creation - impotent to help -But Prayer - remained - Our Side -How excellent the Heaven -When Earth - cannot be had -How hospitable - then - the faceOf our Old Neighbor God -对人类而言太晚可对于上帝还早创世，虚弱无力的帮助可剩下的，我们还能够祈祷当地上不能存在天堂是何等美妙那时，我们老邻居上帝的.表情会多么好客，殷勤，周到注：艾米莉-狄金森 (Emily Dickinson) (1830～1886) ：美国女诗人，写过一千七百多首令人耳目一新的短诗。

诗风独特，以文字细腻、观察敏锐、意象突出著称。

题材多半是关于自然、死亡和永生的。

1）Because I could not stop for Death 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 hasteAnd I had put awayMy labor and my leisure too,For His Civility—We passed the School, where Children strove At Recess—in the RingWe 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 seemedA Swelling of the Ground—The Roof was scarcely visible—The Cornice—in the Ground—Since then—'tis Centuries—and yetFeels shorter than the DayI first surmised the Horses' HeadsWere toward Eternity—2) I felt a funeral in my brainI felt a funeral in my brain,And mourners to and fro,Kept treading, treading, till it seemedThat sense was breaking through.And when they all were seated,A service like a drumKept beating, beating, till I thoughtMy mind was going numb.And then I heard them lift a boxAnd creak across my soulWith those same boots of lead again,Then space began to tollAs all the heavens were a bell,And being but an ear,And I and silence some strange race,Wrecked solitary here.And then a plank in reason broke,And I dropped down and downAnd hit a world at every plunge,And finished knowing, then.7) There's been a death in the opposite houseThere's been a death in the opposite houseAs lately as today.I know it by the numb lookSuch houses have alway.The neighbors rustle in and out,The doctor drives away.A window opens like a pod,Abrupt, mechanically;Somebody flings a mattress out, -The children hurry by;They wonder if It died on that, -I used to when a boy.The minister goes stiffly inAs if the house were his,And he owned all the mourners now,And little boys besides;And then the milliner, and the manOf the appalling trade,To take the measure of the house.There'll be that dark paradeOf tassels and of coaches soon;It's easy as a sign, - The intuition of the news In just a country town.。

Because I Could Not Stop for DeathBy Emily DickinsonBecause 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 hasteAnd I had put awayMy labor and my leisure too,For his Civility2 —We passed the school, where children strove At Recess3 — in the Ring4 —We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain —We passed the Setting Sun —Or rather — He5 passed Us —The Dews drew quivering and chill —For only Gossamer my Gown —My Tippet — only Tulle6 —We paused before a House that seemedA Swelling7 of the Ground —The Roof was scarcely visible —The Cornice8 — in the Ground —Since then —’tis9 centuries — and yetFeels shorter than the DayI first surmised the Horses’ headsWere toward Eternity —注释1. 此诗大约写于1863年，发表于1890年, 编号第712首。

它以死亡为题材，行文极其洒脱，反映了迪金森视死如归的人生态度。

艾米莉·狄金森《我为美而死》及诗歌中死亡意象艾米莉·狄金森（EmilyDickinson，1830—1886），美国女诗人。

出生于律师家庭，青少年时代生活单调而平静，受正规宗教教育。

20岁开始写诗，早期的诗大都已散失。

从25岁起弃绝社交，女尼似的闭门不出，在孤独中埋头写诗30年，在文学史上被称为“阿默斯特的女尼”，留下诗稿1775首，生前只发表过7首，其余的都是在死后才出版，并被世人所知，名气极大。

狄更生的诗主要写生活情趣，自然、生命、信仰、友谊、爱情。

诗风凝练婉约、意向清新，描绘真切、精微，思想深沉、凝聚力强，极富独创性，被视为20世纪现代主义诗歌的先驱之一。

I Died for BeautyI died for beauty－－but was scarceAdjusted in the TombWhen one who died for Truth，was lainIn the adjoining Room－－He questioned softly“Why I failed?”“For beauty，”I replied－－“And I－－for Truth－－Themself are OneWe Brethren，are，”He said－－And so，as Kinsmen，met a Night－－We talked between the Rooms－－Until the Moss had reached our lips－－And covered up－－our names－－我为美而死去我为美而死——对坟墓几乎，还不适应一个殉真理的烈士就成了我的近邻——他轻声问我“为什么倒下？”我回答他：“为了美”——他说：“我为真理，真与美——是一体，我们是兄弟”——就这样，像亲人，黑夜相逢——我们，隔着房间谈心——直到苍苔长上我们的嘴唇——覆盖掉，我们的姓名——《我为美而死》是女诗人对美与真理关系进行探讨的一首诗。

艾米莉·狄金森《我为美而死》艾米莉·狄金森(Emily Dickinson，1830年12月10日——1886年5月15日)，美国著名女诗人。

1830年12月10日出生于美国马萨诸塞州当时还是个小镇的艾默斯特；在艾默斯特学校受完中等教育又入芒特霍利约克女子学院就读不足一年。

从25岁开始，弃绝社交，在家务劳动之余埋头写诗；到1886年5月15日，由于肾脏疾患而在昏迷中离去时，已给人间留下了自成一格、独放异彩、数量可观的诗篇。

我为美而死译本一：我为美而死——但孤零零地躺在坟墓里一位为真理而献身的人，被葬在毗邻的一块墓地他轻轻问我：“你为何丧生？”我回答说：“为了美”“我为真理——真理和美本是一体”他说：“我们也是兄弟。

”于是，我们像兄弟在黑夜相逢隔着坟墓喋喋低语直到苔藓封住我们的嘴唇遮住了墓碑上——我们的名字译本二：我为美而死，但是几乎还没有适应坟墓一个为真理而死的人就躺在了隔壁他轻声问我为什么失败？“为了美。

”我回答“而我为了真理，他们本是一体，我们，是兄弟。

”于是，像亲人在黑夜里相遇我们隔着墙壁交谈直到苔藓蔓上我们的唇际掩盖了我们的名字原文：I dead for beauty, but was scarce Adjusted in the tomb,When one who died for truth was lain In an adjoining room.He questioned softly why I failed? “For beauty,” I replied.“And I for truth,—the two are one; We brethren are,” he said.And so, as kinsmen met a night,We talked between the rooms,Until the moss had reached our lips, And covered up our names.。

1）Becau‎s e I could‎not stop for Death‎Becau‎s e I could‎not stop for Death‎—He kindl‎y stopp‎e d for me—The Carri‎a ge held but just Ourse‎l ves—And Immor‎t alit‎y.We slowl‎y drove‎—He knew no haste‎And I had put awayMy labor‎and my leisu‎r e too,For His Civil‎i ty—We passe‎d the Schoo‎l, where‎Child‎r en strov‎e At Reces‎s—in the RingWe passe‎d the Field‎s of Gazin‎g Grain‎—We passe‎d the Setti‎n g Sun—Or rathe‎r—He passe‎d Us—The Dews drew quive‎r ing and chill‎—For only Gossa‎m er, my Gown—My Tippe‎t—only Tulle‎—We pause‎d befor‎e a House‎that seeme‎dA Swell‎i ng of the Groun‎d—The Roof was scarc‎e ly visib‎l e—The Corni‎c e—in the Groun‎d—Since‎then—'tis Centu‎r ies—and yetFeels‎short‎e r than the DayI first‎surmi‎s ed the Horse‎s' Heads‎Were towar‎d Etern‎i ty—2) I felt a funer‎a l in my brain‎I felt a funer‎a l in my brain‎,And mourn‎e rs to and fro,Kept tread‎i ng, tread‎i ng, till it seeme‎dThat sense‎was break‎i ng throu‎g h.And when they all were seate‎d,A servi‎c e like a drumKept beati‎n g, beati‎n g, till I thoug‎h tMy mind was going‎numb.And then I heard‎them lift a boxAnd creak‎acros‎s my soulWith those‎same boots‎of lead again‎,Then space‎began‎to tollAs all the heave‎n s were a bell,And being‎but an ear,And I and silen‎c e some stran‎g e race,Wreck‎e d solit‎a ry here.And then a plank‎in reaso‎n broke‎,And I dropp‎e d down and downAnd hit a world‎at every‎plung‎e,And finis‎h ed knowi‎n g, then.7) There‎'s been a death‎in the oppos‎i te house‎There‎'s been a death‎in the oppos‎i te house‎As latel‎y as today‎.I know it by the numb lookSuch house‎s have alway‎.The neigh‎b ors rustl‎e in and out,The docto‎r drive‎s away.A windo‎w opens‎like a pod,Abrup‎t, mecha‎n ical‎l y;Someb‎o dy fling‎s a mattr‎e ss out, -The child‎r en hurry‎by;They wonde‎r if It died on that, -I used to when a boy.The minis‎t er goes stiff‎l y inAs if the house‎were his,And he owned‎all the mourn‎e rs now,And littl‎e boys besid‎e s;And then the milli‎n er, and the manOf the appal‎l ing trade‎,To take the measu‎r e of the house‎.There‎'ll be that dark parad‎eOf tasse‎l s and of coach‎e s soon;It's easy as a sign, - The intui‎t ion of the news In just a count‎r y town.。

Emily Dickinson’s poetry1Because I could not stop for Death,He kindly stopped for me;The carriage held but just ourselvesAnd Immortality.We slowly drove, he knew no haste,And I had put awayMy labor, and my leisure too,For his civility.We passed the school where children played,Their lessons scarcely done;We passed the fields of gazing grain,We passed the setting sun.We paused before a house that seemedA swelling of the ground;The roof was scarcely visible.The cornice but a mound.Since then 'tis centuries but eachFeels shorter than the dayI first surmised the horses' headsWere toward eternity.2Bustle In A House~The bustle in a houseThe morning after deathIs solemnest of industriesEnacted upon earth.The sweeping up the heartAnd putting love awayWe shall not want to use againUntil eternity.3"Hope" is the thing with feathersThat perches in the soulAnd sings the tune without the wordsAnd never stops at all,And sweetest in the gale is heard;And sore must be the stormThat could abash the little birdThat kept so many warm.I've heard it in the chillest landAnd on the strangest sea,Yet never, in extremity,It asked a crumb of me.4"Faith" is a fine inventionFor gentlemen who see,But Microscopes are prudentIn an emergency!5’T is so much joy! ’T is so much joy!If I should fail, what poverty!And yet, as poor as IHave ventured all upon a throw;Have gained! Yes! Hesitated soThis side the victory!Life is but life, and death but death!Bliss is but bliss, and breath but breath!And if, indeed, I fail,At least to know the worst is sweet.Defeat means nothing but defeat,No drearier can prevail!And if I gain,—oh, gun at sea,Oh, bells that in the steeples be,At first repeat it slow!For heaven is a different thingConjectured, and waked sudden in,And might o’erwhelm me so!6It was not death, for I stood up,And all the dead lie down.It was not night, for all the bellsPut out their tongues for noon.It was not frost, for on my fleshI felt siroccos crawl,Nor fire, for just my marble feetCould keep a chancel cool.And yet it tasted like them all,The figures I have seenSet orderly for burialReminded me of mine,As if my life were shavenAnd fitted to a frameAnd could not breathe without a key,And 'twas like midnight, some,When everything that ticked has stoppedAnd space stares all around,Or grisly frosts, first autumn morns,Repeal the beating ground;But most like chaos, stopless, cool,Without a chance, or spar,Or even a report of landTo justify despair.7Success is counted sweetestBy those who ne’er succeed.To comprehend a nectarRequires sorest need.Not one of all the purple hostWho took the flag to-dayCan tell the definition,So clear, of victory,As he, defeated, dying,On whose forbidden earThe distant strains of triumphBreak, agonized and clear8IF I can stop one heart from breaking,I shall not live in vain;If I can ease one life the aching,Or cool one pain,Or help one fainting robinUnto his nest again,I shall not live in vain.9Much madness is divinest senseTo a discerning eye;Much sense the starkest madness.’T i s the majorityIn this, as all, prevails.Assent, and you are sane;Demur,—you ’re straightway dangerous,And handled with a chain.10A wounded deer leaps highest,I've heard the hunter tell;T'is but the ecstasy of death,And then the brake is still.The smitten rock that gushes,The trampled steel that springs:A cheek is always redderJust where the hectic stings!Mirth is the mail of anguish,In which it caution arm,Lest anybody spy the bloodAnd Youre hurt exclaim!11A PRECIOUS, mould eringpleasure ’t isTo meet an antique book,In just the dress his century wore;A privilege, I think,His venerable hand to take,And warming in our own,A passage back, or two, to makeo times when he was young.His quaint opinions to inspect,His knowledge to unfoldOn what concerns our mutual mind,The literature of old;What interested scholars most,What competitions ranWhen Plato was a certainty,And Sophocles a man;When Sappho was a living girl,And Beatrice woreThe gown that Dante deified.Facts, centuries before,He traverses familiar,As one should come to townAnd tell you all your dreams were true:He lived where dreams were born.His presence is enchantment,You beg him not to go;Old volumes shake their vellum headsAnd tantalize, just so.12I felt a funeral in my brain,And mourners, to and fro,Kept treading, treading, till it seemedThat sense was breaking through.And when they all were seated,A service like a drumKept beating, beating, till I thoughtMy mind was going numb.And then I heard them lift a box,And creak across my soulWith those same boots of lead, again.Then space began to tollAs all the heavens were a bell,And Being but an ear,And I and silence some strange race,Wrecked, solitary, here.- Emily Dickinson13There is no frigate like a bookTo take us lands away,Nor any coursers like a pageOf prancing poetry.This traverse may the poorest takeWithout oppress of toll;How frugal is the chariotThat bears a human soul!14XVITO fight aloud is very brave,But gallanter, I know,Who charge within the bosom,The cavalry of woe.Who win, and nations do not see,Who fall, and none observe,Whose dying eyes no countryRegards with patriot love.We trust, in plumed procession,For such the angels go,Rank after rank, with even feetAnd uniforms of snow.15I taste a liquor never brewed,From tankards scooped in pearl;Not all the vats upon the RhineYield such an alcohol!Inebriate of air am I,And debauchee of dew,Reeling, through endless summer days,From inns of molten blue.When landlords turn the drunken beeOut of the foxglove's door,When butterflies renounce their drams,I shall but drink the more!Till seraphs swing their snowy hats,And saints to windows run,To see the little tipplerLeaning against the sun!16Who never lost, are unpreparedA Coronet to find!Who never thirstedFlagons, and Cooling Tamarind!Who never climbed the weary league—Can such a foot exploreThe purple territoriesOn Pizarro's shore?How many Legions overcome—The Emperor will say?How many Colors takenOn Revolution Day?How many Bullets bearest?Hast Thou the Royal scar?Angels! Write "Promoted"On this Soldier's brow!17Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat?Then crouch within the door --Red -- is the Fire's common tint --But when the vivid OreHas vanquished Flame's conditions,It quivers from the ForgeWithout a color, but the lightOf unanointed Blaze.Least Village has its BlacksmithWhose Anvil's even ringStands symbol for the finer ForgeThat soundless tugs -- within --Refining these impatient OresWith Hammer, and with BlazeUntil the Designated LightRepudiate the Forge –18I can wade Grief—Whole Pools of it—I'm used to that—But the least push of JoyBreaks up my feet—And I tip—drunken—Let no Pebble—smile—'Twas the New Liquor—That was all!Power is only Pain—Stranded, thro' Discipline,Till Weights—will hang—Give Balm—to Giants—And they'll wilt, like Men—Give Himmaleh—They'll Carry—Him!19For each ecstatic instantWe must an anguish payIn keen and quivering rationTo the ecstasy.For each beloved hourSharp pittances of years—Bitter contested farthings—And Coffers heaped with Tears!20The only news I knowIs bulletins all dayFrom immortality:The only shows I seeTomorrow and today.Perchance eternity.The only one I meetIs God, the only streetExistence; this traversed.If other news there beOr admirabler show,I’ll tell it you.21Wild nights! Wild nights!Were I with thee,Wild nights should beOur luxury!Futile the windsTo a heart in port,Done with the compass,Done with the chart.Rowing in Eden!Ah! the sea!Might I but moorTo-night in thee!22My life closed twice before its close;It yet remains to seeIf Immortality unveilA third event to me,So huge, so hopeless to conceive,As these that twice befell.Parting is all we know of heaven,And all we need of hell23Empty my Heart, of Thee --Its single Artery --Begin, and leave Thee out --Simply Extinction's Date --Much Billow hath the Sea --One Baltic -- They --Subtract Thyself, in play,And not enough of meIs left -- to put away --"Myself" meanth Thee --Erase the Root -- no Tree --Thee -- then -- no me --The Heavens stripped --Eternity's vast pocket, picked --24I know that He exists.Somewhere -- in Silence --He has hid his rare lifeFrom our gross eyes.'Tis an instant's play.'Tis a fond Ambush --Just to make BlissEarn her own surprise!But -- should the playProve piercing earnest --Should the glee -- glaze --In Death's -- stiff -- stare --Would not the funLook too expensive!Would not the jest --Have crawled too far!25Behind Me -- dips Eternity --Before Me -- Immortality --Myself -- the Term between --Death but the Drift of Eastern Gray,Dissolving into Dawn away,Before the West begin --'Tis Kingdoms -- afterward -- they say --In perfect -- pauseless Monarchy --Whose Prince -- is Son of None --Himself -- His Dateless Dynasty --Himself -- Himself diversify --In Duplicate divine --'Tis Miracle before Me -- then --'Tis Miracle behind -- between --A Crescent in the Sea --With Midnight to the North of Her --And Midnight to the South of Her --And Maelstrom -- in the Sky --26Let Us play Yesterday --I -- the Girl at school --You -- and Eternity -- theUntold Tale --Easing my famineAt my Lexicon --Logarithm -- had I -- for Drink --'Twas a dry Wine --Somewhat different -- must be --Dreams tint the Sleep --Cunning Reds of MorningMake the Blind -- leap --Still at the Egg-life --Chafing the Shell --When you troubled the Ellipse --And the Bird fell --Manacles be dim -- they say --To the new Free --Liberty -- Commoner --Never could -- to me --'Twas my last gratitudeWhen I slept -- at night --'Twas the first MiracleLet in -- with Light --Can the Lark resume the Shell --Easier -- for the Sky --Wouldn't Bonds hurt moreThan Yesterday?Wouldn't Dungeons sorer frateOn the Man -- free --Just long enough to taste --Then -- doomed new --God of the ManacleAs of the Free --Take not my LibertyAway from Me --27I died for beauty, but was scarceAdjusted in the tomb,When one who died for truth was lainIn an adjoining room.He questioned softly why I failed?"For beauty," I replied."And I for truth,--the two are one;We brethren are," he said.And so, as kinsmen met a night,We talked between the rooms.Until the moss had reached our lips,And covered up our names.28I SHALL know why, when time is over,And I have ceased to wonder why;Christ will explain each separate anguishIn the fair schoolroom of the sky.He will tell me what Peter promised,And I, for wonder at his woe,I shall forget the drop of anguishThat scalds me now, that scalds me now.29I shall keep singing!I shall keep singing!Birds will pass meOn their way to Yellower Climes --Each -- with a Robin's expectation --I -- with my Redbreast --And my Rhymes --Late -- when I take my place in summer --But -- I shall bring a fuller tune --Vespers -- are sweeter than Matins -- Signor --Morning -- only the seed of Noon --30LET down the bars, O Death!The tired flocks come inWhose bleating ceases to repeat,Whose wandering is done.Thine is the stillest night,Thine the securest fold;Too near thou art for seeking thee,Too tender to be told.31GOING to heaven!I don’t know when,Pray do not ask me how,—Indeed, I ’m too astonishedTo think of answering you!Going to heaven!—How dim it sounds!And yet it will be doneAs sure as flocks go home at nightUnto the shepherd’s arm!Perhaps you ’re going too!Who knows?If you should get there first,Save just a little place for meClose to the two I lost!The smallest “robe” will fit me,And just a bit of “crown”;For you know we do not mind our dressWhen we are going home.I ’m glad I don’t believe it,For it would stop my breath,And I ’d like to look a little moreAt such a curious earth!I am glad they did believe itWhom I have never foundSince the mighty autumn afternoonI left them in the ground.32I READ my sentence steadily,Reviewed it with my eyes,To see that I made no mistakeIn its extremest clause,—The date, and manner of the shame;And then the pious formThat “God have mercy” on the soulThe jury voted him.I made my soul familiarWith her extremity,That at the last it should not beA novel agony,But she and Death, acquainted,Meet tranquilly as friends,Salute and pass without a hintAnd there the matter ends.33THEY dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars,Like petals from a rose,When suddenly across the JuneA wind with fingers goes.They perished in the seamless grass,No eye could find the place;But God on his repealless listCan summon every face.。

emilydickinson的诗因为Emily Dickinson的诗歌对英文诗歌的影响非常之大，以下是列举了一些经典的Emily Dickinson的诗歌：1. Because I could not stop for DeathBecause I could not stop for Death –He kindly stopped for me –The Carriage held but just Ourselves –And Immortality.2. Hope is the Thing with FeathersHope is the thing with feathersThat perches in the soul,And sings the tune without the words,And never stops at all.3. I heard a Fly buzz – when I diedThe Stillness in the RoomWas like the Stillness in the Air –Between the Heaves of Storm –4. I’m Nobody! Who are you?I’m nobody! Who are you?Are you nobody, too?Then there’s a pair of us –don’t tell!They’d banish us, you know.5. Success is counted sweetestSuccess is counted sweetestBy those who ne’er succeed.To comprehend a nectarRequires sorest need.以上列举仅为部分Emily Dickinson的诗歌，她的诗作大多都充满深邃的思想和独特的风格，非常值得一读。

艾米莉·狄金森诗选31首艾米莉.狄金森(Emily Dickinson)(1830～1886) 为美国隐士女诗人，生前写过一千七百多首令人耳目一新的短诗，却不为人知，死后名声大噪。

她诗风独特，以文字细腻、观察敏锐、意象突出著称。

题材方面多半是自然、死亡、和永生。

我从未看过荒原我从未看过荒原--我从未看过海洋--可我知道石楠的容貌和狂涛巨浪。

我从未与上帝交谈也不曾拜访过天堂--可我好像已通过检查一定会到那个地方。

I never saw a moorI never saw a Moor--I never saw the Sea--Yet know I how the Heather looksAnd what a Billow be.I never spoke with GodNor visited in Heaven--Yet certain am I of the spotAs if the Checks were given--云暗天低又复云暗，飞过雪花一片。

穿越车辙马圈，去留择决艰难。

谁人这样待风，令其整天抱怨。

自然犹如我等，时常没戴皇冠。

BecloudedTHE sky is low, the clouds are mean, A travelling flake of snowAcross a barn or through a rut Debates if it will go.A narrow wind complains all day How some one treated him; Nature, like us, is sometimes caught Without her diadem.我是无名之辈! 你是谁?我是无名之辈! 你是谁?你也是无名之辈吗?那么我们为一对!别说! 他们会传开去-- 你知道!多无聊-- 是-- 某某名人!多招摇-- 象个青蛙--告诉你的名字 -- 漫长的六月--给一片赞赏的沼泽!I’M Nobody! Who are you?I’M Nobody! Who are you?Are you--Nobody--too?Then there’s a pair of us!Dont tell! they’d advertise--you know! How dreary--to be--Somebody!How public--like a Frog--To tell your name--the livelong June-- To an admiring Bog!" 信念" 是个微妙的发明" 信念" 是个微妙的发明当绅士们能看见的时候--但显微镜却是谨慎的在紧急的时候。