舞蹈作为一种语言在几千年来的文化演变与传承中不断发展。作为一种文化载体，通过不同形式的舞蹈作品传递着不同的文化内涵，包含民族、宗教、地域、文学和思想都汇聚在这一载体中。下面是小编带来的有关舞蹈的英文美文欣赏，欢迎阅读!

有关舞蹈的英文美文欣赏篇一

一生的舞蹈

In the summer recess between freshman and sophomore years in college, I was invited to be an instructor at a high school leadership camp hosted by a college in Michigan. I was already highly involved in most campus activities, and I jumped at the opportunity.

About an hour into the first day of camp, amid the frenzy of icebreakers and forced interactions, I first noticed the boy under the tree. He was small and skinny, and his obvious discomfort and shyness made him appear frail and fragile. Only 50 feet away, 200 eager campers were bumping bodies, playing, joking and meeting each other, but the boy under the tree seemed to want to be anywhere other than where he was. The desperate loneliness he radiated almost stopped me from approaching him, but I remembered the instructions from the senior staff to stay alert for campers who might feel left out.

As I walked toward him I said, “Hi, my name is Kevin and I’m one of the counselors. It’s nice to meet you. How are you?”

In a shaky, sheepish voice he reluctantly answered, “Okay, I guess.”

I calmly asked him if he wanted to join the activities and meet some new people. He quietly replied, “No, this is not really my thing.”

I could sense that he was in a new world, that this whole experience was foreign to him. But I somehow knew it wouldn’t be right to push him, either. He didn’t need a pep talk, he needed a friend. After several silent moments, my first interaction with the boy under the tree was over.

At lunch the next day, I found myself leading camp songs at the top of my lungs for 200 of my new friends. The campers were eagerly participated. My gaze wandered over the mass of noise and movement and was caught by the image of the boy from under the tree, sitting alone, staring out the window. I nearly forgot the words to the song I was supposed to be leading. At my first opportunity, I tried again, with the same questions as before: “How are you doing? Are you okay?”

To which he again replied, “Yeah, I’m all right. I just don’t really get into this stuff. ”

As I left the cafeteria, I too realized this was going to take more time and effort than I had thought — if it was even possible to get through to him at all.

That evening at our nightly staff meeting, I made my concerns about him known. I explained to my fellow staff members my impression of him and asked them to pay special attention and spend time with him when they could.

The days I spend at camp each year fly by faster than any others I have known. Thus, before I knew it, mid-week had dissolved into the final night of camp and I was chaperoning the “last dance”. The students were doing all they could to savor every last moment with their new “best friends” — friends they would probably never see again.

As I watched the campers share their parting moments, I suddenly saw what would be one of the most vivid memories of my life. The boy from under the tree, who stared blankly out the kitchen window, was now a shirtless dancing wonder. He owned the dance floor as he and two girls proceeded to cut up a rug. I watched as he shared meaningful, intimate time with people at whom he couldn’t even look just days earlier. I couldn’t believe it was him. In October of my sophomore year, a late-night phone call pulled me away from my chemistry book. A soft-spoken, unfamiliar voice asked politely, “Is Kevin there?”

“You’re talking to him. Who’s this?”

“This is Tom Johnson’s mom. Do you remember Tommy from leadership camp? ”

The boy under the tree. How could I not remember? “Yes, I do”, I said. “He’s a very nice young man. How is he?”

An abnormally long pause followed, then Mrs. Johnson said, “My Tommy was walking home from school this week when he was hit by a car and killed.” Shocked, I offered my condolences.

“I just wanted to call you”, she said, “because Tommy mentioned you so many times. I wanted you to know that he went back to school this fall with confidence. He made new friends. His grades went up. And he even went out on a few dates. I just wanted to thank you for making a difference for Tom. The last few months were the best few months of his life.”

In that instant, I realized how easy it is to give a bit of yourself every day. You may never know how much each gesture may mean to someone else. I tell this story as often as I can, and when I do, I urge others to look out for their own “boy under the tree.”

在大一到大二之间的那个暑假，密歇根的一所大学主办一次中学学生干部夏令营，邀我担任辅导员。对于校园的多数活动，我都持赞同态度并积极参与，那次我同样欣然接受了。

头一天活动进行大约一个钟头，我注意到，开始活跃的营员们兴致浓厚，不太自然地互动起来，而树下却有一个孤零零的男孩。他身材矮小，瘦弱不堪，那明显的不安和羞怯使他显得不堪一击。在只有五十英尺远的地方，二百名充满激情的营员正在玩耍、开玩笑并互作介绍，而树下的男孩似乎除了想呆在原地，不想去任何地方。他流露出的极度孤独令我几乎难以靠近，但我没忘记资深辅导员们的提示：对可能感觉受到冷落的营员要保持警惕。

我走向那个男孩，对他说：“嗨!我叫凯文，是你们的辅导员。很高兴认识你，你好吗?”

带着颤抖的怯生生的声音，他勉强答道：“我想——还好吧。”

我平静地问他想不想投入到那些活动从而结识一些人，他轻声回答：“不，那不关我的事。”

我能感觉到他在面对一个新的环境，这种体验对他来说是全然陌生的。也不知为什么,我觉得强迫他加入也不妥当。他不需要鼓励性的讲，他需要的是朋友。几次沉默之后，我和树下男孩的接触就此结束。

第二天吃午饭的时候，我扯开嗓门，领着二百名刚认识的新朋友唱起了营歌。营员们都热情参与，我的目光游移于这群人，忽然那个“树下男孩”的样子吸引了我的注意：他孤零零地坐着，眼瞅着窗外。我几乎忘记了领唱的歌词。只要一有机会，我就会照旧用那些话问他：“你怎么样? 你好吗?”

他的回答依然是：“嗯，我很好。我真地不想参与那种事儿。”

我离开自助餐厅的时候充分认识到，扭转这种状况所需的时间和所做的努力要比我想像的要多——即便是在能让他彻底“迷途知返”的情况下。

在当晚的全体工作人员会议上，我告诉了他们我对他的担忧。我向同事们说明他给我留下的印象，请求他们对他给以特别的关注，并尽可能花时间和他在一起。

每年我在营地度过的日子总是一晃而过，感觉比其它时间过得快。这次同样如此。我还没明白过来，星期三已成过去，露营的最后一晚来到了。我伴随营员们跳起“最后的舞蹈”。学生们都在竭力品味跟新“挚友”在一起的最后每一刻——他们或许以后再也见不到面了。

营员们共度这难忘的分别时刻，这时我突然目睹了我一生都记忆最清晰的一幕：那个曾透过厨房窗户茫然盯着外面的树下男孩，此时却成了不穿衬衫的跳舞奇才。他和两个女孩跳着摇摆舞，在舞池里到处舞动。我注视着他跟大家共享这亲密无间又意义深长的时刻，而仅仅几天前他却对他们连瞧也不瞧一眼。判若两人，让我无法相信。

我大二那年的十月，深夜的一个电话让我放下化学课本，一个柔和却生疏的声音彬彬有礼地问道：

“凯文在吗?”

“我就是，您是哪位?”

“我是汤姆?约翰逊的母亲，您还记得那个参加夏令营的汤米吗?”

树下的那个男孩，我怎么会不记得呢?

“我记得。”我说，“他是个很不错的小伙子，他现在情况怎么样?”

长长的反常沉默过后，约翰逊夫人又说道：“汤米这个星期从学校回家的时候，一辆汽车撞了他使他辞别人世。”我感到震惊，向她表示我的哀悼。

“我给您打电话，”她说，“只因为汤米好多次说起过您。我想让您知道，他今年秋季返校时有了自信心，交了新朋友，学习成绩提高了，甚至还出去约会过几次。我只想表达我的感激之情，因为是您改变了他。最后的这几个月是他度过的生命中最美好的时光。”

在那一刻，我意识到，你每天奉献出一点点还是容易得很，你可能永远都不知道你的举动对他人的影响有多大。我常常讲起这个故事，每当讲起的时候，我总是力劝别人也注意一下他们自己的“树下男孩”。

有关舞蹈的英文美文欣赏篇二

尽情舞蹈

I believe it is in my nature to dance by virtue of the beat of my heart, the pulse of my blood and the music in my mind. So I dance daily.

The seldom-used dining room of my house is now an often-used ballroom — an open space with a hardwood floor, stereo, and a disco ball. The CD-changer has six discs at the ready: waltz, swing, country, rock-and-roll, salsa, and tango.

Each morning when I walk through the house on the way to make coffee, I turn on the music, hit the "shuffle" button, and it's Dance Time! I dance alone to whatever is playing. It's a form of existential aerobics, a moving meditation.

Tango is a recent enthusiasm. It's a complex and difficult dance, so I'm up to three lessons a week, three nights out dancing, and I'm off to Buenos Aires for three months of immersion in tango culture.

The first time I went tango dancing I was too intimidated to get out on the floor. I remembered another time I had stayed on the sidelines, when the dancing began after a village wedding on the Greek island of Crete. The fancy footwork confused me. "Don't make a fool of yourself," I thought. "Just watch."

Reading my mind, an older woman dropped out of the dance, sat down beside me, and said, "If you join the dancing, you will feel foolish. If you do not, you will also feel foolish. So, why not dance?"

And, she said she had a secret for me. She whispered, "If you do not dance, we will know you are a fool. But if you dance, we will think well of you for trying."

Recalling her wise words, I took up the challenge of tango.

A friend asked me if my tango-mania wasn't a little ambitious. "Tango? At your age? You must be out of your mind!"

On the contrary: It's a deeply pondered decision. My passion for tango disguises a fearfulness. I fear the shrinking of life that goes with aging. I fear the boredom that comes with not learning and not taking chances. I fear the dying that goes on inside you when you leave the game of life to wait in the final checkout line.

I seek the sharp, scary pleasure that comes from beginning something new — that calls on all my resources and challenges my mind, my body, and my spirit, all at once.

My goal now is to dance all the dances as long as I can, and then to sit down contented after the last elegant tango some sweet night and pass on because there wasn't another dance left in me.

So, when people say, "Tango? At your age? Have lost your mind?" I answer, "No, and I don't intend to."

Robert Fulghum has written seven bestsellers including "All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten." A native of Waco, Texas, he was a Unitarian minister for 22 years and taught painting and philosophy. Fulghum lives in Seattle and Crete.

Independently produced for NPR by Jay Allison and Dan Gediman with John Gregory and Viki Merrick. Photo by Miro Svolik.

我相信，随着心跳、脉搏以及心中的音乐去跳舞是我的天性。所以我每天都跳。

我屋子里那个很少使用的餐厅，现在经常被用来作“舞厅”——一个铺着硬木地板、配有立体音响装置的迪厅。我的换片箱里备好了6张碟片：华尔兹、摇摆、乡村、摇滚、萨尔萨和探戈。

每天早上，在去煮咖啡的路上，我都把音乐打开，并摁下“随机”键。跳舞的时间到了!不管放的是什么曲子，我都会随着曲子独自起舞。这是一种关乎存在的增氧运动，一种动起来的沉思。

探戈最近很火爆。这是一种很复杂的比较难跳的舞，所以我一周要上三次课，花三个晚上出去跳舞，我还打算去布宜诺斯艾利斯待三个月，接受探戈文化的浸礼。

第一次去上探戈舞蹈课的时候，我非常害怕，都不敢到地板上去。我还记得，有一次，在希腊克里特岛上，一场乡村婚礼之后，舞会开始了，而我却一直待在旁边不敢跳。那高超的步法让我眼花缭乱。“别做傻事了，”我想，“就看看吧。”

一位年龄比我还大的女士看出了我的想法，她从舞场中退出来，坐在我旁边说，“如果加入这场舞会，你会觉得很傻。如果你不加入，你一样会觉得很傻。既然这样，干吗不跳?”

然后，她说她要告诉我一个秘密。她低声说道：“如果你不跳，我们就会知道你是个傻瓜。可是如果你跳了，我们就会因为你的尝试而觉得你很棒。”

听了这席话，我接受了探戈的挑战。

一个朋友问我，我对探戈的嗜好是不是有点儿太狂野了。“探戈?你这个年龄?你一定是精神不正常了!”

恰恰相反：这是我深思熟虑之后的决定。我对探戈的热情掩盖了一种害怕。我害怕生命随着年龄的增长而缩短。我害怕因为不再学习、不再冒险而产生的无聊。我害怕在退出生命之局而等着末日审判的过程中，你体内发生的死亡。

我追寻那种随着新事物而产生的，尖锐而略带惊吓的喜悦——这就要求我全身心投入，对我的心智、身体和勇气同时进行挑战。

我现在的目标就是：跳完所有我能跳的舞蹈，然后，在某个甜蜜的夜晚，跳完最后一支优雅的探戈后，满意地坐下来，离开世界——因为我体内没有一支没有跳过的舞了。

所以，当人们说，“探戈?你这个年龄?精神不正常吧?”我便回答：“没有啊，我可不想不正常。”

有关舞蹈的英文美文欣赏篇三

放慢你的舞步

Have you ever watched kids on a merry-go-round

你曾否