以下是為大家整理的關(guān)于《少兒英語(yǔ)小故事:年輕詩(shī)人之荒誕故事》，供大家學(xué)習(xí)參考！
There once was a young man named John George who had grown up in a quiet pleasant town， had been quietly mediocre in most things he'd tried， and even had a nice quiet family business waiting for him when he came of age. When he turned twenty-one and reflected on his life thus far， he was highly disappointed， for John's one really serious desire in life was to become a great poet， and great poetry is not borne of quiet and pleasant lives. So John went to his mentor， a professor at a very small college nearby， and explained his problem. “I want to write great poetry， poetry filled with passion， poetry made of light and air， poetry that evokes a sense of the eternal void within us all， and the eternal light within that void.”
“Good，” said the professor.
“But nothing interesting has ever happened to me，” John continued.
His mentor suggested that he try falling in love. “Falling in love，” said John's mentor， “is one of the most interesting experiences life has to offer.” Pausing for a moment， his brow furrowed， the professor added， “Or so I've heard.”
John took his mentor's advice to heart， and traveled to a large city not too far from his town， and began looking for a girl. He went to shows， to clubs， to parties， to coffeehouses. After an entire week of searching， John saw a girl sitting at the table next to his at the all-night diner， and fell in love. He introduced himself， read the girl a few of his least wretched poems， and soon the two were gazing dreamily into each other's eyes across the sticky fiberglass tabletop.
John married the girl——her name was Susan——within a month. Surprisingly， they were fabulously happy. Susan was thrilled by John's mediocre poetry， and impressed by his single-minded determination to become a great writer. John， for his part， had never had a girl of his own before， and was utterly smitten with Susan and her breathless admiration. John was so enormously happy that he felt compelled to write about it， about his enchanted life and glowing contentment. He filled notebook after notebook with exuberant， radiant poetry——it was very happy poetry， but it was not good poetry. It was not filled with passion； it was not made of light and air； it did not evoke a sense of the eternal void within us all， or of the eternal light within that void.
And so John went back to his mentor， complaining that he had fallen in love， and was married and fabulously happy， and had many things to write about， but still his poetry lacked passion， light and air， etc. “I'm so happy，” explained John， “that all I can write about is how giddily， dizzyingly happy I am， and it always comes out sounding silly.”
His mentor declared that what John needed was to obtain some poetic distance， and advised him to leave his wife. “That，” the professor predicted， “is an excellent way to obtain perspective on such things.”
John took his mentor's advice， and left Susan. “Only for awhile，” he explained， “to see what it's like.” Susan， who had great respect for John's artistic muse， agreed that it was the only thing to do. She was nevertheless tearful and regretful at their parting， and a very excellent emotional scene ensued， just the thing with which one might begin a career of passionate poetry.
John， living alone in the house he and Susan had shared， was inspired. He wrote notebook after notebook of poetry about what it was like to lose his lovely wife， and what it was like to live alone in the house they had shared， and what it was like to write poetry about a lost love. His poetry， though not yet great， was tinged with hints of passion； it sometimes contained elements of pure air and light； it even made vague gestures concerning the eternal void， and the eternal light.
John was enthusiastic about the quality of his work， and wrote feverishly for several weeks， until the date set for his reunion with his wife arrived. At first he found her affection and her heightened admiration for his new work to be irritating distractions， but soon he found himself settling into contented domestic life once more. The fiery muse which had filled his poetry with vitality left him， and he could only write about what it was like to be reunited with his lovely wife. However， John was still very happy， as he did have his wife back， and very many of his new poems had been accepted for publication.
One day Susan returned to their house after a trip to the market， and saw on the dining room table an envelope with her name on it written in John's hand. Opening it， she found a note：
Dearest Susan，
Great poetry， I have discovered， is about loss. It is the unobtainable， the ever-sought， the drop of liquid fire at the center of the ruby. When I lost you， when I dreamt of you every night， I wrote poetry that was almost great.
Therefore， I have decided to go in search of the ultimate loss. I have lived a life filled with love， and happiness， and contentment；
I have loved my life even more than I have loved you. Truthfully，I am not sure what will happen now， but if there is an afterlife， I will be the greatest poet Heaven has ever known. （Or Hell——poetry being both torture and bliss， it will make very little difference.）
I will achieve in death what I could not achieve in life， because for me life was too happy to allow for great poetry.
I know you will understand； you have always known how important this one goal has been to me. I love you very much， and I know that you love me， and so you will obey this last request： please， please do not come upstairs. There will be a mess， and it will be an unnecessary unpleasantness for you， as it will certainly be too late.
With love and apologies，
John.
年輕詩(shī)人之荒誕故事
作者：琳德賽 泊拉可
翻譯：應(yīng)中革
從前一個(gè)年輕人名叫約翰 喬治。他在一個(gè)安靜舒適的城鎮(zhèn)成長(zhǎng)，一直來生活安穩(wěn)，學(xué)業(yè)平平，而且當(dāng)他長(zhǎng)大成人后有一份體面的家業(yè)等著他。21歲時(shí)，他深刻地反思了生活道路，他感到非常失望。約翰想當(dāng)大詩(shī)人的愿望認(rèn)真而且嚴(yán)肅。而平靜而舒適的生活不可能孕育偉大的詩(shī)篇。因此，約翰就去找導(dǎo)師，他的導(dǎo)師是附近一個(gè)很小的大學(xué)里的教授。見到導(dǎo)師，他就說了自己的難題：“我要寫偉大的詩(shī)句，充滿激情的詩(shī)句，用陽(yáng)光和空氣造就的詩(shī)句，在我們大家之間能喚起一個(gè)有永恒空間情感的詩(shī)句，在那永恒的空間里有一盞永久光照的明燈。”
“很好?！苯淌谡f。
“但是，我從來沒有遇到一件事能讓我感興趣?！奔s翰繼續(xù)說他的難題。
他的導(dǎo)師建議他體驗(yàn)談戀愛。
“戀愛是人生道路上最令人感興趣的體驗(yàn)之一。”他的導(dǎo)師皺起眉頭，停了一下補(bǔ)充說，“我聽說戀愛就是這樣?！?BR> 約翰把導(dǎo)師的忠告牢記在心里，來到了一個(gè)離自己的小鎮(zhèn)不遠(yuǎn)的一個(gè)大成市，開始找女朋友了。他走遍的表演廳、俱樂部、聯(lián)歡會(huì)、咖啡廳。整整尋覓了一星期，他終于看上了一個(gè)女孩，她在吃晚飯時(shí)總是坐在約翰隔壁那張餐桌。約翰愛上了她。他向女孩作了自我介紹，給她讀一些自己寫的最不糟糕的詩(shī)稿。有粘附感的玻璃桌面兩邊的男女很快就夢(mèng)幻般地眉來眼去，互相凝視。
相處一個(gè)月，約翰娶了這位女孩。她叫蘇珊。真難以置信，小倆口日子過得非常幸福。蘇珊聽著他那普普通通的詩(shī)句，激動(dòng)得熱血沸騰，而且約翰一心一意要當(dāng)詩(shī)人的決心深深地感動(dòng)了她。而約翰，以前從來沒有自己的女人，現(xiàn)在深深地迷戀蘇珊，沉醉在她那些使人喘不過氣來的贊揚(yáng)聲中。他感到這么幸福，以至迫不及待做詩(shī)抒發(fā)幸福感受，描繪欣喜若狂的生活和熱情洋溢的知己。華麗而冗長(zhǎng)的詩(shī)句填滿一本以一本，這是光輝燦爛的幸福詩(shī)句，但是，這不是好詩(shī)。沒有激情，并非陽(yáng)光和空氣造就，不能在我們之間能喚起一個(gè)有永恒空間情感，更沒有永久光照的明燈。
約翰回去找導(dǎo)師，抱怨地說了自己真的戀愛了，結(jié)婚，生活非常幸福，有很多東西好寫。但是自己的詩(shī)還是缺少激情，沒有陽(yáng)光和空氣，等等。約翰解釋說，“我非常幸福，結(jié)果我只能寫自己享樂得如何眼花繚亂，頭昏眼花。這些詩(shī)句聽起來總是很無(wú)聊?！?BR> 導(dǎo)師斷言，約翰需要獲取詩(shī)境，建議他離開妻子。導(dǎo)師預(yù)言，“這是獲得洞察生活的絕妙辦法?！?
There once was a young man named John George who had grown up in a quiet pleasant town， had been quietly mediocre in most things he'd tried， and even had a nice quiet family business waiting for him when he came of age. When he turned twenty-one and reflected on his life thus far， he was highly disappointed， for John's one really serious desire in life was to become a great poet， and great poetry is not borne of quiet and pleasant lives. So John went to his mentor， a professor at a very small college nearby， and explained his problem. “I want to write great poetry， poetry filled with passion， poetry made of light and air， poetry that evokes a sense of the eternal void within us all， and the eternal light within that void.”
“Good，” said the professor.
“But nothing interesting has ever happened to me，” John continued.
His mentor suggested that he try falling in love. “Falling in love，” said John's mentor， “is one of the most interesting experiences life has to offer.” Pausing for a moment， his brow furrowed， the professor added， “Or so I've heard.”
John took his mentor's advice to heart， and traveled to a large city not too far from his town， and began looking for a girl. He went to shows， to clubs， to parties， to coffeehouses. After an entire week of searching， John saw a girl sitting at the table next to his at the all-night diner， and fell in love. He introduced himself， read the girl a few of his least wretched poems， and soon the two were gazing dreamily into each other's eyes across the sticky fiberglass tabletop.
John married the girl——her name was Susan——within a month. Surprisingly， they were fabulously happy. Susan was thrilled by John's mediocre poetry， and impressed by his single-minded determination to become a great writer. John， for his part， had never had a girl of his own before， and was utterly smitten with Susan and her breathless admiration. John was so enormously happy that he felt compelled to write about it， about his enchanted life and glowing contentment. He filled notebook after notebook with exuberant， radiant poetry——it was very happy poetry， but it was not good poetry. It was not filled with passion； it was not made of light and air； it did not evoke a sense of the eternal void within us all， or of the eternal light within that void.
And so John went back to his mentor， complaining that he had fallen in love， and was married and fabulously happy， and had many things to write about， but still his poetry lacked passion， light and air， etc. “I'm so happy，” explained John， “that all I can write about is how giddily， dizzyingly happy I am， and it always comes out sounding silly.”
His mentor declared that what John needed was to obtain some poetic distance， and advised him to leave his wife. “That，” the professor predicted， “is an excellent way to obtain perspective on such things.”
John took his mentor's advice， and left Susan. “Only for awhile，” he explained， “to see what it's like.” Susan， who had great respect for John's artistic muse， agreed that it was the only thing to do. She was nevertheless tearful and regretful at their parting， and a very excellent emotional scene ensued， just the thing with which one might begin a career of passionate poetry.
John， living alone in the house he and Susan had shared， was inspired. He wrote notebook after notebook of poetry about what it was like to lose his lovely wife， and what it was like to live alone in the house they had shared， and what it was like to write poetry about a lost love. His poetry， though not yet great， was tinged with hints of passion； it sometimes contained elements of pure air and light； it even made vague gestures concerning the eternal void， and the eternal light.
John was enthusiastic about the quality of his work， and wrote feverishly for several weeks， until the date set for his reunion with his wife arrived. At first he found her affection and her heightened admiration for his new work to be irritating distractions， but soon he found himself settling into contented domestic life once more. The fiery muse which had filled his poetry with vitality left him， and he could only write about what it was like to be reunited with his lovely wife. However， John was still very happy， as he did have his wife back， and very many of his new poems had been accepted for publication.
One day Susan returned to their house after a trip to the market， and saw on the dining room table an envelope with her name on it written in John's hand. Opening it， she found a note：
Dearest Susan，
Great poetry， I have discovered， is about loss. It is the unobtainable， the ever-sought， the drop of liquid fire at the center of the ruby. When I lost you， when I dreamt of you every night， I wrote poetry that was almost great.
Therefore， I have decided to go in search of the ultimate loss. I have lived a life filled with love， and happiness， and contentment；
I have loved my life even more than I have loved you. Truthfully，I am not sure what will happen now， but if there is an afterlife， I will be the greatest poet Heaven has ever known. （Or Hell——poetry being both torture and bliss， it will make very little difference.）
I will achieve in death what I could not achieve in life， because for me life was too happy to allow for great poetry.
I know you will understand； you have always known how important this one goal has been to me. I love you very much， and I know that you love me， and so you will obey this last request： please， please do not come upstairs. There will be a mess， and it will be an unnecessary unpleasantness for you， as it will certainly be too late.
With love and apologies，
John.
年輕詩(shī)人之荒誕故事
作者：琳德賽 泊拉可
翻譯：應(yīng)中革
從前一個(gè)年輕人名叫約翰 喬治。他在一個(gè)安靜舒適的城鎮(zhèn)成長(zhǎng)，一直來生活安穩(wěn)，學(xué)業(yè)平平，而且當(dāng)他長(zhǎng)大成人后有一份體面的家業(yè)等著他。21歲時(shí)，他深刻地反思了生活道路，他感到非常失望。約翰想當(dāng)大詩(shī)人的愿望認(rèn)真而且嚴(yán)肅。而平靜而舒適的生活不可能孕育偉大的詩(shī)篇。因此，約翰就去找導(dǎo)師，他的導(dǎo)師是附近一個(gè)很小的大學(xué)里的教授。見到導(dǎo)師，他就說了自己的難題：“我要寫偉大的詩(shī)句，充滿激情的詩(shī)句，用陽(yáng)光和空氣造就的詩(shī)句，在我們大家之間能喚起一個(gè)有永恒空間情感的詩(shī)句，在那永恒的空間里有一盞永久光照的明燈。”
“很好?！苯淌谡f。
“但是，我從來沒有遇到一件事能讓我感興趣?！奔s翰繼續(xù)說他的難題。
他的導(dǎo)師建議他體驗(yàn)談戀愛。
“戀愛是人生道路上最令人感興趣的體驗(yàn)之一。”他的導(dǎo)師皺起眉頭，停了一下補(bǔ)充說，“我聽說戀愛就是這樣?！?BR> 約翰把導(dǎo)師的忠告牢記在心里，來到了一個(gè)離自己的小鎮(zhèn)不遠(yuǎn)的一個(gè)大成市，開始找女朋友了。他走遍的表演廳、俱樂部、聯(lián)歡會(huì)、咖啡廳。整整尋覓了一星期，他終于看上了一個(gè)女孩，她在吃晚飯時(shí)總是坐在約翰隔壁那張餐桌。約翰愛上了她。他向女孩作了自我介紹，給她讀一些自己寫的最不糟糕的詩(shī)稿。有粘附感的玻璃桌面兩邊的男女很快就夢(mèng)幻般地眉來眼去，互相凝視。
相處一個(gè)月，約翰娶了這位女孩。她叫蘇珊。真難以置信，小倆口日子過得非常幸福。蘇珊聽著他那普普通通的詩(shī)句，激動(dòng)得熱血沸騰，而且約翰一心一意要當(dāng)詩(shī)人的決心深深地感動(dòng)了她。而約翰，以前從來沒有自己的女人，現(xiàn)在深深地迷戀蘇珊，沉醉在她那些使人喘不過氣來的贊揚(yáng)聲中。他感到這么幸福，以至迫不及待做詩(shī)抒發(fā)幸福感受，描繪欣喜若狂的生活和熱情洋溢的知己。華麗而冗長(zhǎng)的詩(shī)句填滿一本以一本，這是光輝燦爛的幸福詩(shī)句，但是，這不是好詩(shī)。沒有激情，并非陽(yáng)光和空氣造就，不能在我們之間能喚起一個(gè)有永恒空間情感，更沒有永久光照的明燈。
約翰回去找導(dǎo)師，抱怨地說了自己真的戀愛了，結(jié)婚，生活非常幸福，有很多東西好寫。但是自己的詩(shī)還是缺少激情，沒有陽(yáng)光和空氣，等等。約翰解釋說，“我非常幸福，結(jié)果我只能寫自己享樂得如何眼花繚亂，頭昏眼花。這些詩(shī)句聽起來總是很無(wú)聊?！?BR> 導(dǎo)師斷言，約翰需要獲取詩(shī)境，建議他離開妻子。導(dǎo)師預(yù)言，“這是獲得洞察生活的絕妙辦法?！?