诺贝尔文学奖获奖诗选（Anthology of Nobel Prize for literature）

1、诺贝尔文学奖获奖诗选（Anthology of Nobel Prize for literature）About the author:Thomas transtrum (1931 -), Swedish poet. In 1954, he published 17 poems and became a sensation. Has issued a total of 163 poem, besides the 17 poem works collected for the secrets of the way, done half the sky, tone and footprint, t

2、o see the darkness, savage square, for the living and the dead and sorrow gondola 10 poetry anthology. After suffering from cerebral hemorrhage in 1990, he continued to write in pure poetry after his right body was paralyzed. He is good at from the daily life of the organic matter and science combin

3、ed into poems, works more than short, refining, often with images and metaphors to shape the individuals inner world, send intense emotion in the quiet words. He was hailed as the most prominent symbol of contemporary European poetry and a master of surrealism. He has been nominated for several Nobe

4、l prizes. The Swedish academy should not hesitate to give the Nobel Prize to transtromer, even though he is Swedish, said walcott, the 1992 Nobel laureate.Thomas transtromers poems are very close. He USES very few words to express very strong feelings. He USES many associations. Because of his very

5、few words, he reached the Japanese haiku requirement in the 1950s. The word here is not a component of poetry, but a syllable.The structure of transtromer used bold imagery from the beginning, the rhythm of freedom and the structure of ancient poetry. His words are gentle and not tough, his style is

6、 simple, but the rhythm is very strong, which is very attractive through the unexpected verses and associations.In content, transtromer seldom writes about the natural scene or abstract philosophical thinking, and he generally describes the anti-thinking of daily life. Here he does not write about t

7、he world events of media coverage, nor does he write about inner conflict. He focuses on the moments of human interaction. German radio commented on his poem full of taste, color, vibration and noise.From the point of view of literary history, he is close to the pure poem of Paul valery. He is a bit

8、 of a art for art flavor, but beyond pure perfectionism, but psychologically, logically,. His poems are not in a school of law.April and silenceSpring is a desolationThe black gutter of velvetCrawling around meThere is no reflectionThe only thing that shinesIts a yellow flowerI was carried in my sha

9、dowLike a handful of being carriedThe violin in the black boxThe only thing I have to sayShine in the unattainableIts like a pawnshopsilverlonely1One night in February, I almost died hereMy car slipped out of the driveway and enteredThe other side of the road. Encounter car -Their lights are approac

10、hingMy name, my daughter, my jobLet go of me and stay behindAnd behind it, Im anonymous -Like a boy surrounded by rivals on campusThe approaching vehicle emitted a huge lightThey illuminate me and I turn the steering wheelTransparent fear is dripping with proteinThe instant is expanding - you can fi

11、nd space there -Theyre big like a hospital buildingcrushYou can almost stopTake a breathThen a fulcrum appeared: a rescue of sandOr a magical wind. Car off risksClimb back to the originalA telegraph pole flew across the sky, breaking - a sharp soundThe telegraph pole flew away in the darknessThere w

12、as peace all around. Im still sitting in my seatbeltWaiting for someone to wind the snowSee if Im safe2I lingered for a long timeOn the frozen fields of east gothThere was no one to seeAnd elsewhere in the worldIn the crowdBorn, alive, deadWant to stand out - live inSea of eyesYou have to have a spe

13、cial lookdaubThe delirium floated up and downIn itself, the skyBetween the shadow and the sandI must be aloneTen minutes in the morningTen minutes in the evening- inactionEveryone was in line at each otherA fewaThe secret of the roadSunlight fell on the face of a sleeper.His dreams were more vividBu

14、t he didnt wake up.The darkness fell in an impatientThe sun shines in the middle of othersPeoples faces.The sky turned dark like a sudden rain.I am standing in the house of every moment - the butterfly museum.The sun was still strong.Its impatient paintbrush is drawing the world.Wander,Two in the mo

15、rning: moonlight. The train is outsideStop in the field. A distant town was dotted with sparksOn the horizon, cold and cold.When a man walks so deep in a dreamAs he returned to the room,He would never think of him there.Or when a person walks so deep in a diseaseSo that his days were turned into fla

16、shes of sparks, of bees,Weak and cold on the horizon.The train was completely motionless.Two points: strong moonlight, sparse stars.Half the paradisePessimism interrupts its journey.Pain interrupts its journey.The bald eagle interrupted its flight.The intense glow of the light flows out,Even the gho

17、st drinks.Our paintings see daylight,The red beast of our ice age studio.Everything begins to look around,We walked by the hundreds in the sunlight.Everyone is the one that leads to the right oneThe half-open door of everyones room.The infinite ground is at our feet.The water glistened between the t

18、rees.The lake is a window into the earth.elegyI opened the first door.This is a large room illuminated by sunlight.A heavy car was passing byMake the China tremble.I open door two.Friends! You drink some darknessAnd it becomes visible.Gate three. A cramped hotel room.The view toward an alley.A lampp

19、ost shines on the asphalt.Experience, its beautiful slag.Tail pieceI drag like a grappling hook on the floor of the world.I dont have to grab anything.Tired, angry, shining caved.The executor collects the stones. God writes on the sand.Quiet room.The furniture looks ready to burst in the moonlight.I

20、 went through a forest of empty armorWalk into yourself.A prelude toDisillusionment is a dream of skydivingGet rid of the choking vortexThe rover landed in the green land of the morningEverything burns. He noticed - with the larkPosture - dense rootsThe countless lamps shook under the ground. But th

21、e groundThe verdant - tropical wind - standsHold your arms and listenThe rhythm of the invisible pump. heFall into the summer, fall inThe summer dazzle of the cave, falls inShaking in the sunA checkerboard of wet green veins. So stopThis crossing the instantaneous line, the wings openAn eagles perch

22、 on the jet streamThe trumpet of the Bronze AgeUneasy melodyHanging over the abyssIn the morning light, perception holds the worldA rock that is as warm as a sunThe rover stood under the tree. whenThrough the vortex of deathCould there be a great light spreading over his head?Morning and entranceThe

23、 seagulls, the captain of the sun, helm his own rudderBelow it is the sea waterThe world still dozed off like waterMottled stoneDays that cannot be explained. Days -Words like the aztecs!Music. I was tied to aIts on the tapestry, held highArms - like in folk artimageThe palaceWe walked in. The only

24、hallEmpty. The floor is smoothLike a deserted skating rinkThe door is closed. Air gloomyThe picture on the wall. We can seeImage: the tortoiseThe weight of the weight, the fish, the dumb worldThe image of those battlesA sculpture is placed in this void:A horse was standing in the middle of the hallW

25、e were seized with emptinessI noticed the horseIts weaker than the roar of the whelkThe noise and voice of the cityAround the empty houseClamor for powerThere are other things, dark thingsTheyre in the five sensesStop in front of the threshold and the sand flows into a quiet hourglassIts time to mov

26、e around. weGo to that horse. Its bigBlack as iron. When the emperor disappearsThe power personifiedThe horse said, I am the only oneI lost the emptiness I had ridden on meThis is my shed. Im slowly growingI swallowed the desolated silence. Half-finished skyCowardice interrupts his journeyFear inter

27、rupts his journeyThe vulture interrupts its flightThe eager light spattered outEven the ghost tasted itOur paintings appear in the dayThe red beast of our ice age studioEverything begins to look aroundWe walked into the sun in drovesEveryone is a half-open doorTo a Shared houseThe mighty earth is un

28、der our feetThe water glistened between the treesThe lake is the window to the earthThe theory of historyaOne day in March I went to the lake to listenThe ice was as blue as the sky and burst in the sunlightAnd the sun is whispering in the microphone of the iceThe noise is booming. It was as if some

29、one had lifted the sheets in the distanceIts like history: our present. We sink, we listenThe secondThe general assembly is like a flying island, colliding.Then: a long, quivering compromiseThe vehicle will drive there under the starsNot born in the voidA pale face, like rice, anonymousthreeIn 1926

30、Goethe was a tour of Africa, and he saw everythingWhat you can see after you die makes the truth come outA building is in the Algerian newsIt comes on the air. The window of the building is darkThere is only one exception: you see dreyfusThe face offourRadical and reactionary lives in unhappy marria

31、gesThey change and they depend on each otherAs their children we must break freeEvery question is shouted in its own languagePlease feel like a police dog in the place where truth passes!fiveIn the woods not far from the houseA strange newspaper has been lying down for monthsIt grows old in the rain

32、 and rainBecome a plant, a cabbage head, and the earth melt into oneAs a memory becomes the house that you open and close yourselfThere are people who use the world as a glove to experience itHe took a break during the day, took off his gloves and put them on the shelfThe gloves suddenly enlarged an

33、d stretchedFill the house with darknessThe dark house stood in the spring breezeAmnesty. Whispering in the grass: amnesty.A little boy was runningHolding an invisible line that slanted toward the skyHis wild dream of the futureLike a bigger kite flying in the suburbsFrom high can see the boundless b

34、lue conifer carpetThere the shadow stood stillNo, its flyingWinter eyesI was leaning like a ladder, turning my faceReach into the first floor of the cherry treeI am in the tinted clock of sunshineI killed the red fruits faster than four magpiesSuddenly I was struck by a distant cold snapBlack and whiteLike an axe on the trunk of a treeIt was too late. Lose face we start joggingDown, into the ancient sewersThe tunnel. We drifted there for monthsHalf the job, half the escapeA short prayer. A lid opens