英语诗歌同建筑艺术一样,也需要追求外在的视觉艺术和造型艺术,讲究外部的象形、对称、参差和魅力,所以诗歌语言也具有建筑艺术美感。小编精心收集了关于英文版唐朝诗歌，供大家欣赏学习!

关于英文版唐朝诗歌篇1

石鱼湖上醉歌并序

元结

漫叟以公田米酿酒，因休暇，则载酒于湖上， 时取一醉;欢醉中，据湖岸，引臂向鱼取酒， 使舫载之，遍饮坐者。意疑倚巴丘，酌于君山 之上，诸子环洞庭而坐，酒舫泛泛然，触波涛 而往来者，乃作歌以长之。

石鱼湖， 似洞庭，

夏水欲满君山青。

山为樽， 水为沼，

酒徒历历坐洲鸟。

长风连日作大浪， 不能废人运酒舫。

我持长瓢坐巴丘， 酌饮四座以散愁。

a drinking song at stone-fish lake

yuan jie

i have used grain from the public fields, for distilling wine. after my office hours i have the wine loaded on a boat and then i seat my friends on the bank of the lake. the little wine-boats come to each of us and supply us with wine. we seem to be drinking on pa islet in lake dongting. and i write this poem.

stone-fish lake is like lake dongting --

when the top of zun is green and the summer tide is rising.

...with the mountain for a table, and the lake a fount of wine,

the tipplers all are settled along the sandy shore.

though a stiff wind for days has roughened the water,

wine-boats constantly arrive....

i have a long-necked gourd and, happy on ba island,

i am pouring a drink in every direction doing away with care.

关于英文版唐朝诗歌篇2

夜归鹿门山歌

孟浩然

山寺钟鸣昼已昏， 渔梁渡头争渡喧。

人随沙路向江村， 余亦乘舟归鹿门。

鹿门月照开烟树， 忽到庞公栖隐处。

岩扉松径长寂寥， 惟有幽人自来去。

returning at night to lumen mountain

meng haoran

a bell in the mountain-temple sounds the coming of night.

i hear people at the fishing-town stumble aboard the ferry,

while others follow the sand-bank to their homes along the river.

...i also take a boat and am bound for lumen mountain --

and soon the lumen moonlight is piercing misty trees.

i have come, before i know it, upon an ancient hermitage,

the thatch door, the piney path, the solitude, the quiet,

where a hermit lives and moves, never needing a companion.

关于英文版唐朝诗歌篇3

白雪歌送武判官归京

岑参

北风卷地白草折， 胡天八月即飞雪;

忽如一夜春风来， 千树万树梨花开。

散入珠帘湿罗幕， 狐裘不暖锦衾薄。

将军角弓不得控， 都护铁衣冷犹著。

瀚海阑干百丈冰， 愁云黪淡万里凝。

中军置酒饮归客， 胡琴琵琶与羌笛。

纷纷暮雪下辕门， 风掣红旗冻不翻。

轮台东门送君去， 去时雪满天山路;

山回路转不见君， 雪上空留马行处。

a song of white snow in farewell to field-clerk wu going home

cen can

the north wind rolls the white grasses and breaks them;

and the eighth-month snow across the tartar sky

is like a spring gale, come up in the night,

blowing open the petals of ten thousand peartrees.

it enters the pearl blinds, it wets the silk curtains;

a fur coat feels cold, a cotton mat flimsy;

bows become rigid, can hardly be drawn

and the metal of armour congeals on the men;

the sand-sea deepens with fathomless ice,

and darkness masses its endless clouds;

but we drink to our guest bound home from camp,

and play him barbarian lutes, guitars, harps;

till at dusk, when the drifts are crushing our tents

and our frozen red flags cannot flutter in the wind,

we watch him through wheel-tower gate going eastward.

into the snow-mounds of heaven-peak road....

and then he disappears at the turn of the pass,

leaving behind him only hoof-prints.