亚洲免费乱码视频,日韩 欧美 国产 动漫 一区,97在线观看免费视频播国产,中文字幕亚洲图片

      1. <legend id="ppnor"></legend>

      2. 
        
        <sup id="ppnor"><input id="ppnor"></input></sup>
        <s id="ppnor"></s>

        初中英語詩歌:Cosmology

        字號:

        以下是為大家整理的關(guān)于《初中英語詩歌:Cosmology》文章,供大家學(xué)習(xí)參考!
            小編推薦: 英文歌詞| 英文網(wǎng)名| 英語祝福語| 英文名字| 英語詩歌| 英語作文網(wǎng)
            Cosmology
            Christopher Buckley
            Most days I find myself
             considering the encrypted
             clouds, though, while everything
             is blue through the boughs
             of heaven, I know the stars
             will hardly spell out
             our names in specks
             across the enormity(巨大,暴行) of night.
             We have these bodies
             from stars, second-hand,
             a diminishing(逐漸縮小的) quotient
             of dust lagging behind
             the soul, beggar with a cart --
             told sticks, furniture
             piled on. . . .
             You're tired,
             your bones positioned on
             the couch each evening to ruminate,
             to remember where you left off
             taking notes, floating
             suppositions, a few
             unlikely alternatives,
             before they fall, like
             the last remaining cloud
             into the sea,
             before the stars
             scar your thoughts
             and the moon freezes
             the lemon blossoms,
             another vague(模糊的) brilliance
             abandoning you . . . .
            More dust glimmers
             before dawn
             where you can see
             the back of the sky
             shouldering empty space,
             confirming nothing --
             the dulled earth
             just another rock,
             where we came from --
            a few molecules rewired,
             bunched up now and
             heading off. . . .
            You've come this far
             with holes in your shoes,
             leaves in the pockets
             of your coat -- all you have
             finally to show for hunting
             the proposition of God
             in the burning clouds,
             in the invisible web
             of air, in the one
             petrified vowel of space.
             Your only hope now
             is to not bear false witness
             against the sea, the unknowable
             scattershot of stars.
             for Jon Veinberg