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斯洛伐克语诗歌朗诵,Go_世界诗歌_好法学网

2019-12-02 01:57

木岛诗歌|木岛诗歌 |外语诗歌

英文诗歌朗诵|英文爱情诗歌 |木岛诗歌

       It's the last month of 2016,i was a senior high school student in the first half of year,and then latter half  undergo the gaokao which had become a undergraduate.

Jianshu is supposed to be a platform where potential writers share their articles full with thoughts, proses with beautiful words and maybe even life experiences with mottos. Unlike the others I'm trying to record my daily life and even some thoughts in English with help of Jianshu. Since it has a wonderful and simple layout, it can be synchronized automatically with the phone app, write everywhere, read and edit whenever you want. This could be exactly what I'm after and may somehow stimulate the enthusiasm as well as energy about writing.

There comes a time in every man's life

by Frank Bidart

      But unfortunately the college that i in isn't what I wanna be ,and I am really hit the rock-bottom it's like no future for me which i was considered to drop out the school cause it  cast a lot to go to the private university ,In fact the most significant reason is I don't think the college worth that much money and till now I still think does not worth.

I just returned to work from a ten days of holiday. I found myself extremely exhausted. It's difficult to get back to a different daily rhythm when you are used to be lazy and cozy at home: wake up till whenever you think you're awake, go to bed whenever you think you're tired. But you have a timeline to follow once you go back to work, wake up at half eight o clock, go to work, get your breakfast along your way to work, sit down and turn on your computer, a day begins.

when he thinks: I have never had a single

The only thing I miss about Los Angeles

      Those days isn't the hardest ,I was convince myself to accept  the fact so was my father did ,he said :"There's alternative which one you going to college and work ,and turns out I chosen the first cause I have no skill and don't wanna work for living ,i am very sensitive that I have poetry and distance inside like gaoxiaoson's word so I decide to  go ,but when actually here the college OMG but if I get starting with this it will be long story with lot of complaints and as teacher lixiaolai said complain  is   expression of weakness and incompetent so cut long story short this college totally opposite than I thought and made me anxiety and depressed but a book completely changed me and that's 【把时间当作朋友】,thought  the book I connected the past and future, i am keep learn stuffs is just not help in the Gaokao but it help me become a better person and now i am reborn ,I join a group named super individualism and never talk without take action ,I got something meaningful things and goals to do ,i am grateful  that I love English and keep learning it .and I carrying with mindfulness in my mind to feeling the life in a optimistic way ,what a wonderful life .

There's nothing special happened today, but I do have some thoughts which I would prefer to write down. What I profoundly important find is how important English either for daily life or for work. As I sat in my seat working on my stuff today, a group leader just went by and he was talking about a german's English, he said, that guy in XX department is just not so good, he's talking the whole time german English. I always think a man's work ability is above his language skills, but I forgot one point that people get the first impression of you through the way you talk and the things you talk about. If you don't speak fluent English with relative good pronunciation and less mistakes, people look down on you. You'll have to work hard to earn the respect from the others, to prove your ability, to convince the others you're better than they thought.

original thought in my life

is the Hollywood Freeway at midnight, windows down and

Guess what, yes, the thought above is the only reason why I'm writing here. Actually I should also write some german diaries to keep on delivering as I go along (really good environment to learn german).

including this one & therefore I shall

radio blaring

well, so much for today. I have an appointment regarding sub-sahara presentation tomorrow, I've prepared 17 slides to prove the UC business in Nigeria is attractive and there's potential in the country. One idea just came to my mind, would it be better every time I write those presentations down word in word before the presentation, will it be helpful?

eliminate all ideas from my poems

bearing right into the center of the city, the Capitol Tower

YANIII 05. Aril 2016 Tuesday

which shall consist of cats, rice, rain

on the right, and beyond it, Hollywood Boulevard

baseball cards, fire escapes, hanging plants

——pimps, surplus stores, footprints of the stars

red brick houses where I shall give up booze

——descending through the city

and organized religion even if it means

fast as the law would allow

despair is a logical possibility that can't

through the lights, then rising to the stack

be disproved I shall concentrate on the five

out of the city

senses and what they half perceive and half

to the stack where lanes are stacked six deep

create, the green street signs with white

and you on top; the air

letters on them the body next to mine

now clean, for a moment weightless

asleep while I think these thoughts

without memories, or

that I want to eliminate like nostalgia

need for a past.

0 was there ever a man who felt as I do

The need for the past

like a pronoun out of step with all the other

is so much at the center of my life

floating signifiers no things but in words

I write this poem to record my discovery of it,

an orange T-shirt a lime green awning

my reconciliation.

It was in Bishop, the room was done

in California plush: we had gone into the coffee shop, were told

you could only get a steak in the bar:

I hesitated,

not wanting to be an occasion of temptation for my father

but he wanted to, so we entered

a dark room, with amber water glasses, walnut

tables, captain's chairs,

plastic doilies, papier-m?ché bas-relief wall ballerinas,

German memorial plates "bought on a trip to Europe,"

Puritan crosshatch green-yellow wallpaper,

frilly shades, cowhide

booths——

I thought of Cambridge:

the lovely congruent elegance

of Revolutionary architecture, even of

ersatz thirties Georgian

seemed alien, a threat, sign

of all I was not——

to bode order and lucidity

as an ideal, if not reality——

not this California plush, which

I was not.

And so I made myself an Easterner,

finding it, after all, more like me

than I had let myself hope.

And now, staring into the embittered face of

my father,

again, for two weeks, as twice a year,

I was back.

The waitress asked us if we wanted a drink.

Grimly, I waited until he said no……

Before the tribunal of the world I submit the following

Nancy showed it to us,

in her apartment at the model,

as she waited month by month

for the property settlement, her children grown

and working for their father,

at fifty-three now alone,

a drink in her hand:

as my father said,

"They keep a drink in her hand":

Name Wallace du Bois

Box No 128 Chino, Calif.

Date July 25 ,19 54

Mr Howard Arturian

I am writing a letter to you this afternoon while I'm in the

mood of writing. How is everything getting along with you these

fine days, as for me everything is just fine and I feel great except for

the heat I think its lot warmer then it is up there but I don't mind

it so much. I work at the dairy half day and I go to trade school the

other half day Body & Fender, now I am learning how to spray

paint cars I've already painted one and now I got another car to

paint. So now I think I've learned all I want after I have learned all

this. I know how to straighten metals and all that. I forgot to say

"Hello" to you. The reason why I am writing to you is about a job,

my Parole Officer told me that he got letter from and that you want

me to go to work for you. So I wanted to know if its truth. When

I go to the Board in Feb. I'll tell them what I want to do and where

I would like to go, so if you want me to work for you I'd rather have

you sent me to your brother John in Tonapah and place to stay for

my family. The Old Lady says the same thing in her last letter that

she would be some place else then in Bishop, thats the way I feel

too.and another thing is my drinking problem. I made up my mind

to quit my drinking, after all what it did to me and what happen.

This is one thing I'll never forget as longs as I live I never want

to go through all this mess again. This sure did teach me lot of things

that I never knew before. So Howard you can let me know soon

as possible. I sure would appreciate it.

P.S From Your Friend

I hope you can read my Wally Du Bois

writing. I am a little nervous yet

——He and his wife had given a party, and

one of the guests was walking away

just as Wallace started backing up his car.

He hit him, so put the body in the back seat

and drove to a deserted road.

There he put it before the tires, and

ran back and forth over it several times.

When he got out of Chino, he did,

indeed, never do that again:

but one child was dead, his only son,

found with the rest of the family

immobile in their beds with typhoid,

next to the mother, the child having been

dead two days:

he continued to drink, and as if it were the Old West

shot up the town a couple of Saturday nights.

"So now I think I've learned all I want

after I have learned all this: this sure did teach me a lot of things

that I never knew before.

I am a little nervous yet."

It seems to me

an emblem of Bishop——

For watching the room, as the waitresses in their

back-combed, Parisian, peroxided, bouffant hairdos,

and plastic belts,

moved back and forth

I thought of Wallace, and

the room suddenly seemed to me

not uninteresting at all:

they were the same. Every plate and chair

had its congruence with

all the choices creating

these people, created

by them——by me,

for this is my father's chosen country, my origin.

Before, I had merely been anxious, bored; now,

I began to ask a thousand questions……

He was, of course, mistrustful, knowing I was bored,

knowing he had dragged me up here from Bakersfield

after five years

of almost managing to forget Bishop existed.

But he soon became loquacious, ordered a drink,

and settled down for

an afternoon of talk……

He liked Bishop: somehow, it was to his taste, this

hard-drinking, loud, visited-by-movie-stars town.

"Better to be a big fish in a little pond."

And he was: when they came to shoot a film,

he entertained them; Miss A——, who wore

nothing at all under her mink coat; Mr. M——,

good horseman, good shot.

"But when your mother

let me down" (for alcoholism and

infidelity, she divorced him)

"and Los Angeles wouldn't give us water any more,

I had to leave.

We were the first people to grow potatoes in this valley."

When he began to tell me

that he lost control of the business

because of the settlement he gave my mother,

because I had heard it

many times,

in revenge, I asked why people up here drank so much.

He hesitated. "Bored, I guess.

——Not much to do."

And why had Nancy's husband left her?

In bitterness, all he said was:

"People up here drink too damn much."

And that was how experience

had informed his life.

"So now I think I've learned all I want

after I have learned all this: this sure did teach me a lot of things

that I never knew before.

I am a little nervous yet."

Yet, as my mother said,

returning, as always, to the past,

"I wouldn't change any of it.

It taught me so much. Gladys

is such an innocent creature: you look into her face

and somehow it's empty, all she worries about

are sales and the baby.

her husband's too good!"

It's quite pointless to call this rationalization:

my mother, for uncertain reasons, has had her

bout with insanity, but she's right:

the past in maiming us,

destruction:

I think of Proust, dying

in a cork-linked room, because he refuses to eat

because he thinks that he cannot write if he eats

because he wills to write, to finish his novel

——his novel which recaptures the past, and

with a kind of joy, because

in the debris

of the past, he has found the sources of the necessities

which have led him to this room, writing

——in this strange harmony, does he will

for it to have been different?

And I can't not think of the remorse of Oedipus,

who tries to escape, to expiate the past

by blinding himself, and

then, when he is dying, sees that he has become a Daimon

——does he, discovering, at last, this cruel

coherence created by

"the order of the universe"

——does he will

anything reversed?

I look at my father:

as he drinks his way into garrulous, shaky

defensiveness, the debris of the past

is just debris——; whatever I reason, it is a desolation

to watch……

must I watch?

He will not change; he does not want to change;

every defeated gesture implies

the past is useless, irretrievable……

——I want to change: I want to stop fear's subtle

guidance of my life——; but, how can I do that

if I am still

afraid of its source?

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