韩愈的诗英文诗歌精选

　　诗歌饱含着作者的思想感情与丰富的想象，语言凝练而形象性强，具有鲜明的节奏，和谐的音韵，富于音乐美，语句一般分行排列，注重结构形式的美。下面就是小编给大家带来的韩愈的诗英文诗歌，希望能帮助到大家!

　　韩愈的诗英文诗歌1

　　八月十五夜赠张功曹

　　韩愈

　　纤云四卷天无河， 清风吹空月舒波。

　　沙平水息声影绝， 一杯相属君当歌。

　　君歌声酸辞且苦， 不能听终泪如雨。

　　洞庭连天九疑高， 蛟龙出没猩鼯号。

　　十生九死到官所， 幽居默默如藏逃。

　　下床畏蛇食畏药， 海气湿蛰熏腥臊。

　　昨者州前槌大鼓， 嗣皇继圣登夔皋。

　　赦书一日行万里， 罪从大辟皆除死。

　　迁者追回流者还， 涤瑕荡垢清朝班。

　　州家申名使家抑， 坎轲祇得移荆蛮。

　　判司卑官不堪说， 未免捶楚尘埃间。

　　同时辈流多上道， 天路幽险难追攀。

　　君歌且休听我歌， 我歌今与君殊科。

　　一年明月今宵多， 人生由命非由他;

　　有酒不饮奈明何?

　　on the festival of the moon to sub-official zhang

　　han yu

　　the fine clouds have opened and the river of stars is gone,

　　a clear wind blows across the sky, and the moon widens its wave,

　　the sand is smooth, the water still, no sound and no shadow,

　　as i offer you a cup of wine, asking you to sing.

　　but so sad is this song of yours and so bitter your voice

　　that before i finish listening my tears have become a rain:

　　"where lake dongting is joined to the sky by the lofty nine-doubt mountain,

　　dragons, crocodiles, rise and sink, apes, flying foxes, whimper....

　　at a ten to one risk of death, i have reached my official post,

　　where lonely i live and hushed, as though i were in hiding.

　　i leave my bed, afraid of snakes; i eat, fearing poisons;

　　the air of the lake is putrid, breathing its evil odours....

　　yesterday, by the district office, the great drum was announcing

　　the crowning of an emperor, a change in the realm.

　　the edict granting pardons runs three hundred miles a day,

　　all those who were to die have had their sentences commuted,

　　the unseated are promoted and exiles are recalled,

　　corruptions are abolished, clean officers appointed.

　　my superior sent my name in but the governor would not listen

　　and has only transferred me to this barbaric place.

　　my rank is very low and useless to refer to;

　　they might punish me with lashes in the dust of the street.

　　most of my fellow exiles are now returning home --

　　a journey which, to me, is a heaven beyond climbing."

　　...stop your song, i beg you, and listen to mine,

　　a song that is utterly different from yours:

　　"tonight is the loveliest moon of the year.

　　all else is with fate, not ours to control;

　　but, refusing this wine, may we choose more tomorrow?"

　　韩愈的诗英文诗歌2

　　山石

　　韩愈

　　山石荦确行径微， 黄昏到寺蝙蝠飞。

　　升堂坐阶新雨足， 芭蕉叶大栀子肥。

　　僧言古壁佛画好， 以火来照所见稀。

　　铺床拂席置羹饭， 疏粝亦足饱我饥。

　　夜深静卧百虫绝， 清月出岭光入扉。

　　天明独去无道路， 出入高下穷烟霏。

　　山红涧碧纷烂漫， 时见松枥皆十围。

　　当流赤足蹋涧石， 水声激激风吹衣。

　　人生如此自可乐， 岂必局束为人鞿?

　　嗟哉吾党二三子， 安得至老不更归?

　　mountain-stones

　　han yu

　　rough were the mountain-stones, and the path very narrow;

　　and when i reached the temple, bats were in the dusk.

　　i climbed to the hall, sat on the steps, and drank the rain- washed air

　　among the round gardenia-pods and huge bananaleaves.

　　on the old wall, said the priest, were buddhas finely painted,

　　and he brought a light and showed me, and i called them wonderful

　　he spread the bed, dusted the mats, and made my supper ready,

　　and, though the food was coarse, it satisfied my hunger.

　　at midnight, while i lay there not hearing even an insect,

　　the mountain moon with her pure light entered my door....

　　at dawn i left the mountain and, alone, lost my way:

　　in and out, up and down, while a heavy mist

　　made brook and mountain green and purple, brightening everything.

　　i am passing sometimes pines and oaks, which ten men could not girdle,

　　i am treading pebbles barefoot in swift-running water --

　　its ripples purify my ear, while a soft wind blows my garments....

　　these are the things which, in themselves, make life happy.

　　why should we be hemmed about and hampered with people?

　　o chosen pupils, far behind me in my own country,

　　what if i spent my old age here and never went back home?

　　韩愈的诗英文诗歌3

　　石鼓歌

　　韩愈

　　张生手持石鼓文， 劝我识作石鼓歌。

　　少陵无人谪仙死， 才薄将奈石鼓何?

　　周纲淩迟四海沸， 宣王愤起挥天戈;

　　大开明堂受朝贺， 诸侯剑佩鸣相磨。

　　搜于岐阳骋雄俊， 万里禽兽皆遮罗。

　　镌功勒成告万世， 凿石作鼓隳嵯峨。

　　从臣才艺咸第一， 拣选撰刻留山阿。

　　雨淋日炙野火燎， 鬼物守护烦撝呵。

　　公从何处得纸本? 毫发尽备无差讹。

　　辞严义密读难晓， 字体不类隶与蝌。

　　年深岂免有缺画? 快剑砍断生蛟鼍。

　　鸾翔凤翥众仙下， 珊瑚碧树交枝柯。

　　金绳铁索锁钮壮， 古鼎跃水龙腾梭。

　　陋儒编诗不收入， 二雅褊迫无委蛇。

　　孔子西行不到秦， 掎摭星宿遗羲娥。

　　嗟予好古生苦晚， 对此涕泪双滂沱。

　　忆昔初蒙博士徵， 其年始改称元和。

　　故人从军在右辅， 为我度量掘臼科。

　　濯冠沐浴告祭酒， 如此至宝存岂多?

　　毡包席裹可立致， 十鼓祇载数骆驼。

　　荐诸太庙比郜鼎， 光价岂止百倍过。

　　圣恩若许留太学， 诸生讲解得切磋。

　　观经鸿都尚填咽， 坐见举国来奔波。

　　剜苔剔藓露节角， 安置妥帖平不颇。

　　大厦深檐与盖覆， 经历久远期无佗。

　　中朝大官老于事， 讵肯感激徒媕婀?

　　牧童敲火牛砺角， 谁复著手为摩挲?

　　日销月铄就埋没， 六年西顾空吟哦。

　　羲之俗书趁姿媚， 数纸尚可博白鹅。

　　继周八代争战罢， 无人收拾理则那。

　　方今太平日无事， 柄任儒术崇丘轲。

　　安能以此上论列? 愿借辩口如悬河。

　　石鼓之歌止于此， 呜呼吾意其蹉跎。

　　a poem on the stone drums

　　han yu

　　chang handed me this tracing, from the stone drums,

　　beseeching me to write a poem on the stone drums.

　　du fu has gone. li bai is dead.

　　what can my poor talent do for the stone drums?

　　...when the zhou power waned and china was bubbling,

　　emperor xuan, up in wrath, waved his holy spear:

　　and opened his great audience, receiving all the tributes

　　of kings and lords who came to him with a tune of clanging weapons.

　　they held a hunt in qiyang and proved their marksmanship:

　　fallen birds and animals were strewn three thousand miles.

　　and the exploit was recorded, to inform new generations....

　　cut out of jutting cliffs, these drums made of stone-

　　on which poets and artisans, all of the first order,

　　had indited and chiselled-were set in the deep mountains

　　to be washed by rain, baked by sun, burned by wildfire,

　　eyed by evil spirits; and protected by the gods.

　　...where can he have found the tracing on this paper? --

　　true to the original, not altered by a hair,

　　the meaning deep, the phrases cryptic, difficult to read.

　　and the style of the characters neither square nor tadpole.

　　time has not yet vanquished the beauty of these letters --

　　looking like sharp daggers that pierce live crocodiles,

　　like phoenix-mates dancing, like angels hovering down,

　　like trees of jade and coral with interlocking branches,

　　like golden cord and iron chain tied together tight,

　　like incense-tripods flung in the sea, like dragons mounting heaven.

　　historians, gathering ancient poems, forgot to gather these,

　　to make the two books of musical song more colourful and striking;

　　confucius journeyed in the west, but not to the qin kingdom,

　　he chose our planet and our stars but missed the sun and moon

　　i who am fond of antiquity, was born too late

　　and, thinking of these wonderful things, cannot hold back my tears....

　　i remember, when i was awarded my highest degree,

　　during the first year of yuanho,

　　how a friend of mine, then at the western camp,

　　offered to assist me in removing these old relics.

　　i bathed and changed, then made my plea to the college president

　　and urged on him the rareness of these most precious things.

　　they could be wrapped in rugs, be packed and sent in boxes

　　and carried on only a few camels: ten stone drums

　　to grace the imperial temple like the incense-pot of gao --

　　or their lustre and their value would increase a hundredfold,

　　if the monarch would present them to the university,

　　where students could study them and doubtless decipher them,

　　and multitudes, attracted to the capital of culture

　　prom all corners of the empire, would be quick to gather.

　　we could scour the moss, pick out the dirt, restore the original surface,

　　and lodge them in a fitting and secure place for ever,

　　covered by a massive building with wide eaves

　　where nothing more might happen to them as it had before.

　　...but government officials grow fixed in their ways

　　and never will initiate beyond old precedent;

　　so herd- boys strike the drums for fire, cows polish horns on them,

　　with no one to handle them reverentially.

　　still ageing and decaying, soon they may be effaced.

　　six years i have sighed for them, chanting toward the west....

　　the familiar script of wang xizhi, beautiful though it was,

　　could be had, several pages, just for a few white geese,

　　but now, eight dynasties after the zhou, and all the wars over,

　　why should there be nobody caring for these drums?

　　the empire is at peace, the government free.

　　poets again are honoured and confucians and mencians....

　　oh, how may this petition be carried to the throne?

　　it needs indeed an eloquent flow, like a cataract-

　　but, alas, my voice has broken, in my song of the stone drums,

　　to a sound of supplication choked with its own tears.

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