Engelske digte

Engelske digteHer er nogle nøje udvalgt digte fra det engelske sprog. De er alle beregnet “berømte”, altså skrevet af mennesker der har præsteret noget så verdenen husker dem. Hvis du ønsker flere engelske digte, kan du skrive det i kommentar feltet som findes i bunden af siden. Så skal jeg nok tilføje flere til listen.


    • I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud
      Skrevet af William Wordsworth
      I wandered lonely as a cloud
      That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
      When all at once I saw a crowd,
      A host, of golden daffodils;
      Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
      Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

      Continuous as the stars that shine
      And twinkle on the milky way,
      They stretched in never-ending line
      Along the margin of a bay:
      Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
      Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

      The waves beside them danced, but they
      Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
      A poet could not be but gay,
      In such a jocund company!
      I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
      What wealth the show to me had brought:

      For oft, when on my couch I lie
      In vacant or in pensive mood,
      They flash upon that inward eye
      Which is the bliss of solitude;
      And then my heart with pleasure fills,
      And dances with the daffodils.

    • To My Wife – With A Copy Of My Poems
      Skrevet af Oscar Wilde
      I can write no stately proem
      As a prelude to my lay;
      From a poet to a poem
      I would dare to say.

      For if of these fallen petals
      One to you seem fair,
      Love will waft it till it settles
      On your hair.

      And when wind and winter harden
      All the loveless land,
      It will whisper of the garden,
      You will understand.

    • A Girl
      Skrevet af Ezra Pound
      The tree has entered my hands,
      The sap has ascended my arms,
      The tree has grown in my breast-
      Downward,
      The branches grow out of me, like arms.

      Tree you are,
      Moss you are,
      You are violets with wind above them.
      A child – so high – you are,
      And all this is folly to the world.

    • There is another sky
      Skrevet af Emily Dickinson
      There is another sky,
      Ever serene and fair,
      And there is another sunshine,
      Though it be darkness there;
      Never mind faded forests, Austin,
      Never mind silent fields –
      Here is a little forest,
      Whose leaf is ever green;
      Here is a brighter garden,
      Where not a frost has been;
      In its unfading flowers
      I hear the bright bee hum:
      Prithee, my brother,
      Into my garden come!
    • The Road Not Taken
      Skrevet af Robert Frost
      Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
      And sorry I could not travel both
      And be one traveler, long I stood
      And looked down one as far as I could
      To where it bent in the undergrowth;
      Then took the other, as just as fair,
      And having perhaps the better claim,
      Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
      Though as for that the passing there
      Had worn them really about the same,
      And both that morning equally lay
      In leaves no step had trodden black.
      Oh, I kept the first for another day!
      Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
      I doubted if I should ever come back.
      I shall be telling this with a sigh
      Somewhere ages and ages hence:
      Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
      I took the one less traveled by,
      And that has made all the difference.
    • Where the Sidewalk Ends
      Skrevet af Shel Silverstein
      There is a place where the sidewalk ends
      And before the street begins,
      And there the grass grows soft and white,
      And there the sun burns crimson bright,
      And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
      To cool in the peppermint wind.

      Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
      And the dark street winds and bends.
      Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
      We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
      And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
      To the place where the sidewalk ends.

      Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
      And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
      For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
      The place where the sidewalk ends.

    • Phenomenal Woman
      Skrevet af Maya Angelou
      Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
      I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
      But when I start to tell them,
      They think I’m telling lies.
      I say,
      It’s in the reach of my arms
      The span of my hips,
      The stride of my step,
      The curl of my lips.
      I’m a woman
      Phenomenally.
      Phenomenal woman,
      That’s me.

      I walk into a room
      Just as cool as you please,
      And to a man,
      The fellows stand or
      Fall down on their knees.
      Then they swarm around me,
      A hive of honey bees.
      I say,
      It’s the fire in my eyes,
      And the flash of my teeth,
      The swing in my waist,
      And the joy in my feet.
      I’m a woman
      Phenomenally.
      Phenomenal woman,
      That’s me.

      Men themselves have wondered
      What they see in me.
      They try so much
      But they can’t touch
      My inner mystery.
      When I try to show them
      They say they still can’t see.
      I say,
      It’s in the arch of my back,
      The sun of my smile,
      The ride of my breasts,
      The grace of my style.
      I’m a woman

      Phenomenally.
      Phenomenal woman,
      That’s me.

      Now you understand
      Just why my head’s not bowed.
      I don’t shout or jump about
      Or have to talk real loud.
      When you see me passing
      It ought to make you proud.
      I say,
      It’s in the click of my heels,
      The bend of my hair,
      the palm of my hand,
      The need of my care,
      ‘Cause I’m a woman
      Phenomenally.
      Phenomenal woman,
      That’s me.

      Flere engelske digte

    • If You Forget Me
      Skrevet af Pablo Neruda
      I want you to know
      one thing.

      You know how this is:
      if I look
      at the crystal moon, at the red branch
      of the slow autumn at my window,
      if I touch
      near the fire
      the impalpable ash
      or the wrinkled body of the log,
      everything carries me to you,
      as if everything that exists,
      aromas, light, metals,
      were little boats
      that sail
      toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

      Well, now,
      if little by little you stop loving me
      I shall stop loving you little by little.

      If suddenly
      you forget me
      do not look for me,
      for I shall already have forgotten you.

      If you think it long and mad,
      the wind of banners
      that passes through my life,
      and you decide
      to leave me at the shore
      of the heart where I have roots,
      remember
      that on that day,
      at that hour,
      I shall lift my arms
      and my roots will set off
      to seek another land.

      But
      if each day,
      each hour,
      you feel that you are destined for me
      with implacable sweetness,
      if each day a flower
      climbs up to your lips to seek me,
      ah my love, ah my own,
      in me all that fire is repeated,
      in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
      my love feeds on your love, beloved,
      and as long as you live it will be in your arms
      without leaving mine.

    • A Dream Within A Dream
      Skrevet af Edgar Allan Poe
      Take this kiss upon the brow!
      And, in parting from you now,
      Thus much let me avow–
      You are not wrong, who deem
      That my days have been a dream;
      Yet if hope has flown away
      In a night, or in a day,
      In a vision, or in none,
      Is it therefore the less gone?
      All that we see or seem
      Is but a dream within a dream.

      I stand amid the roar
      Of a surf-tormented shore,
      And I hold within my hand
      Grains of the golden sand–
      How few! yet how they creep
      Through my fingers to the deep,
      While I weep–while I weep!
      O God! can I not grasp
      Them with a tighter clasp?
      O God! can I not save
      One from the pitiless wave?
      Is all that we see or seem
      But a dream within a dream?

    • Life Is Fine
      Skrevet af Langston Hughes
      I went down to the river,
      I set down on the bank.
      I tried to think but couldn’t,
      So I jumped in and sank.

      I came up once and hollered!
      I came up twice and cried!
      If that water hadn’t a-been so cold
      I might’ve sunk and died.

      But it was Cold in that water! It was cold!

      I took the elevator
      Sixteen floors above the ground.
      I thought about my baby
      And thought I would jump down.

      I stood there and I hollered!
      I stood there and I cried!
      If it hadn’t a-been so high
      I might’ve jumped and died.

      But it was High up there! It was high!

      So since I’m still here livin’,
      I guess I will live on.
      I could’ve died for love–
      But for livin’ I was born

      Though you may hear me holler,
      And you may see me cry–
      I’ll be dogged, sweet baby,
      If you gonna see me die.

      Life is fine! Fine as wine! Life is fine!

    • Sidste tre engelske digte på denne liste

    • Messy Room
      Skrevet af Shel Silverstein
      Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
      His underwear is hanging on the lamp.
      His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair,
      And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp.
      His workbook is wedged in the window,
      His sweater’s been thrown on the floor.
      His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV,
      And his pants have been carelessly hung on the door.
      His books are all jammed in the closet,
      His vest has been left in the hall.
      A lizard named Ed is asleep in his bed,
      And his smelly old sock has been stuck to the wall.
      Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
      Donald or Robert or Willie or–
      Huh? You say it’s mine? Oh, dear,
      I knew it looked familiar!
    • Still I Rise
      Skrevet af Maya Angelou
      You may write me down in history
      With your bitter, twisted lies,
      You may trod me in the very dirt
      But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

      Does my sassiness upset you?
      Why are you beset with gloom?
      ‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
      Pumping in my living room.

      Just like moons and like suns,
      With the certainty of tides,
      Just like hopes springing high,
      Still I’ll rise.

      Did you want to see me broken?
      Bowed head and lowered eyes?
      Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
      Weakened by my soulful cries.

      Does my haughtiness offend you?
      Don’t you take it awful hard
      ‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
      Diggin’ in my own back yard.

      You may shoot me with your words,
      You may cut me with your eyes,
      You may kill me with your hatefulness,
      But still, like air, I’ll rise.

      Does my sexiness upset you?
      Does it come as a surprise
      That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
      At the meeting of my thighs?

      Out of the huts of history’s shame
      I rise
      Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
      I rise
      I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
      Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
      Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
      I rise
      Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
      I rise
      Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
      I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
      I rise
      I rise
      I rise.

    • To You.
      Skrevet af Walt Whitman
      LET us twain walk aside from the rest;
      Now we are together privately, do you discard ceremony,
      Come! vouchsafe to me what has yet been vouchsafed to none—Tell me the whole story,
      Tell me what you would not tell your brother, wife, husband, or physician.

    Du er nu nået vejs ende og er kommet igennem alle 13 engelske digte. Du er mere end velkommen til at skrive din mening om dem i kommentar feltet. Hvis du har nogle ynglings digte på engelsk så kan du også tilføje det til din kommentar. Så skal jeg nok tilføje dem til listen. Jeg håber du har fået noget ud af disse digte. Vi har desuden mange andre digte i andre kategorier skulle det have din interesse.

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