elegy

歌曲名:Elegy歌手:Hale专辑:Twilight标题：Elegy艺术家：Leaves"eyesTeardrop on a fragile eyelashShe"s looking like a dreamHoping for some understandingAnd answer or at leastCunning word a single sentenceTo restore her heartAching since the day I left herCrossing lonely seasSilent tears overwarm herMake her warrior cryHeaven, I beg youPlease release hopes from fearsThis is my elegyDo you know what I feel?This is my elegyDo you believe it"s real?Will I hold you in my arms again?Teardrops on a single rosebudIt"s purity of ranReminds me of the moment I left herKisses filled with painAnd if I should leave her waitingFor another yearWill she ever know the answer?Will she follow me?Silent tears overwarm herMake her warrior cryHeaven, I beg youPlease release hopes from fearsThis is my elegyDo you know what I feel?This is my elegyDo you believe it"s real?Will I hold you in my arms ...Hold you in my arms again?Cunning word, a single sentenceTo restore her heartAching since the day I left herCrossing lonely seasSilent tears overwarm herMake her warrior cryHeaven, I beg youPlease release hopes from fearsThis is my elegyDo you know what I feel?This is my elegyDo you believe it"s real?This is my elegyDo you know what I feel?Do you believe it"s real?金属梦：66032164Will I hold you in my arms again?http://music.baidu.com/song/2589033

分类: 生活 >> 交通出行 问题描述: 谁给我他的中文翻译啊!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 解析: 格雷(Thomas Gray)诗选 墓地哀歌 晚钟响起来一阵阵给白昼报丧， 牛群在草原上迂回，吼声起落， 耕地人累了，回家走，脚步踉跄， 把整个世界留给了黄昏与我。 苍茫的景色逐渐从眼前消退， 一片肃穆的寂静盖遍了尘寰， 只听见嗡嗡的甲虫转圈子纷飞， 昏沉的 *** 催眠着远处的羊栏。 只听见常春藤披裹的塔顶底下 一只阴郁的柢枭向月亮诉苦， 怪人家无端走进它秘密的住家， 搅扰它这个悠久而僻静的领土。 峥嵘的榆树底下，扁柏的荫里， 草皮鼓起了许多零落的荒堆， 各自在洞窟里永远放下了身体， 小村里粗鄙的父老在那里安睡。 香气四溢的晨风轻松的呼召， 燕子从茅草棚子里吐出的呢喃， 公鸡的尖喇叭，使山鸣谷应的猎号 再不能唤醒他们在地下的长眠。 在他们，熊熊的炉火不再会燃烧， 忙碌的管家妇不再会赶她的夜活； 孩子们不再会“牙牙”的报父亲来到， 为一个亲吻爬倒他膝上去争夺。 往常是：他们一开镰就所向披靡， 顽梗的泥板让他们犁出了垄沟； 他们多么欢欣地赶牲口下地！ 他们一猛砍，树木就一棵棵低头！ “雄心”别嘲讽他们实用的操劳， 家常的欢乐，默默无闻的命运； “豪华”也不用带着轻蔑的冷笑 来听讲穷人的又短有简的生平。 门第的炫耀，有权有势的煊赫， 凡是美和财富所能赋予的好处， 前头都等待着不可避免的时刻： 光荣的道路无非是引导到坟墓。 骄傲人，你也不要怪这些人不行， “怀念”没有给这些人建立纪念堂， 没有让悠长的廊道、雕花的拱顶 洋溢着洪亮的赞美歌，进行颂扬。 栩栩的半身像，铭刻了事略的瓮碑， 难道能恢复断气，促使还魂？ “荣誉”的声音能激发沉默的死灰？ “献媚”能叫死神听软了耳根？ 也许这一块地方，尽管荒芜， 就埋着曾经充满过灵焰的一颗心； 一双手，本可以执掌到帝国的王芴 或者出神入化地拨响了七弦琴。 可是“知识”从不曾对他们展开 它世代积累而琳琅满目的书卷； “贫寒”压制了他们高贵的襟怀， 冻结了他们从灵府涌出的流泉。 世界上多少晶莹皎洁的珠宝 埋在幽暗而深不可测的海底； 世界上多少花吐艳而无人知晓， 把芳香白白地散发给荒凉的空气。 也许有乡村汉普顿在这里埋身， 反抗过当地的小霸王，胆大，坚决； 也许有缄口的米尔顿，从没有名声； 有一位克伦威尔，并不曾害国家流血。 要博得满场的元老雷动的鼓掌， 无视威胁，全不顾存亡生死， 把富庶，丰饶遍播到四处八方， 打从全国的笑眼里读自己的历史—— 他们的命运可不许：既不许罪过 有所放纵，也不许发挥德行； 不许从杀戮中间涉登宝座 从此对人类关上仁慈的大门； 不许掩饰天良在内心的发作， 隐瞒天真的羞愧，恬不红脸； 不许用诗神的金焰点燃了香火 锦上添花去塞满“骄”“奢”的神龛。 远离了纷纭人世的勾心斗角， 他们有清醒愿望，从不学糊涂， 顺着生活的清凉僻静的山坳， 他们坚持了不声不响的正路。 可是叫这些尸骨免受到糟踏， 还是有脆弱的碑牌树立在近边， 点缀了拙劣的韵语、凌乱的刻划， 请求过往人就便献一声婉叹。 无闻的野诗神注上了姓名、年份， 另外再加上地址和一篇悼词； 她在周围撒播了一些经文， 教训乡土道德家怎样去死。 要知道谁甘愿舍身哑口的“遗忘”， 坦然撇下了忧喜交织的此生， 谁离开风和日暖的明媚现场 而能不依依地回头来顾盼一阵？ 辞世的灵魂还依傍钟情的怀抱， 临闭的眼睛需要尽哀的珠泪， 即使坟冢里也有“自然”的呼号 他们的旧火还点燃我们的新灰。 至于你，我关心这些默默的陈死人， 用这些诗句讲他们质朴的故事， 假如在幽思的引导下，偶然有缘分， 一位同道来问起你的身世—— 也许会有白头的乡下人对他说， “我们常常看见他，天还刚亮， 就用匆忙的脚步把露水碰落， 上那边高处的草地去会晤朝阳； “那边有一棵婆娑的山毛榉老树， 树底下隆起的老根盘错在一起， 他常常在那里懒躺过一个中午， 悉心看旁边一道涓涓的小溪。 “他转游到林边，有时候笑里带嘲， 念念有词，发他的奇谈怪议， 有时候垂头丧气，像无依无靠， 像忧心忡忡或者像情场失意。 “有一天早上，在他惯去的山头， 灌木丛，他那棵爱树下，我不见他出现； 第二天早上，尽管我走下溪流， 上草地，穿过树林，他还是不见。 “第三天我们见到了送葬的行列， 唱着挽歌，抬着他向坟场走去—— 请上前看那丛老荆棘底下的碑碣， （你是识字的）请念念这些诗句”： 墓 铭 这里边，高枕地膝，是一位青年， 生平从不曾受知于“富贵”和“名声”； “知识”可没轻视他出身的微贱， “清愁”把他标出来认作宠幸。 他生性真挚，最乐于慷慨施惠， 上苍也给了他同样慷慨的报酬： 他给了“坎坷”全部的所有，一滴泪； 从上苍全得了所求，一位朋友。 别再想法子表彰他的功绩， 也别再把他的弱点翻出了暗窖 （他们同样在颤抖的希望中休息）。 那就是他的天父和上帝的怀抱。

ELEGY1500.03500.0 1.40.0 0.3 -0.15 75 0.65 0.9 0.5 5 240.0 28.0 5.0 R P 8.0 0.5 0 35.0 1.0 0.20 0.0 0.28 -0.10 0.5 0.30.25 0.60 35000 40002804 40000011 1 1

汽车代码分别如下： elegy：562。 flash：565。 jester：559。 stratum：561。 sultan：560。 uranus：558。 以上仅供参考，希望对你有所帮助！

歌曲名:Elegy歌手:Philip Aaberg专辑:Out Of The FrameElegyAmorphis <Elegy>Long evenings full on longingLow-spirited my morningsFull of longing too my nightsAnd all times the bitterest."Tis my lovely I long forIt is my darling I missMy black-browed one I grieve for.Beneath the grass my treasureUnder the sand my sweet oneBeneath the grass my treasureUnder the sand my sweet oneThere"s no hearing my treasureNo seeing my marten-breatNo hearing her in the laneDriving below the windowChopping the wood by the stackClinking outside the cook-houseIn the eart my berry liesBeneath the grass my treasureUnder the sand my sweet oneBeneath the grass my treasureUnder the sand my sweet oneLong evenings full on longingLow-spirited my morningsFull of longing too my nightsAnd all times the bitterest.There"s no hearing my treasureNo seeing my marten-breatNo hearing her in the laneDriving below the windowChopping the wood by the stackClinking outside the cook-houseIn the eart my berry liesIn the soil she"s moulderingUnder the sand my sweet oneBeneath the grass my treasureThe one I grieve for.<SOLO>这首歌出自Amorphis99年同名专辑<Elegy>悲伤的曲调 蜿蜒的旋律 哀婉的歌词 不禁使人窒息于这迷幻的气息中The Endhttp://music.baidu.com/song/7515593

哀歌（エレジー） 作词u30fb作曲：平井　坚 しがみついた背中に　そっと爪を立てて 私を刻み込んだ　もっと　梦の中へ ひらひら　舞い散る　花びらがひとつ ゆらゆら　彷徨い　逝き场をなくした その手で　その手で　私を　汚して 何度も　何度も　私を壊して 汗ばむ淋しさを　重ね合わせ 眩しくて见えない　闇に落ちてく いつか灭び逝く　このカラダならば 蚀まれたい　あなたの爱で この病に名前が　あれば楽になれる はみ出すことが怖い　どうか　群れの中へ ひらひら　舞い散る　花びらがひとつ ゆらゆら　彷徨い　あなたを见つけた この手で　この手で　あなたを汚して 何度も　何度も　あなたに溺れて 背中合わせの　不安と悦び 波打ちながら　私を突き刺す いつか消えて逝く　この想いならば 今引き裂いて　あなたの爱で その手で　その手で　私を　汚して 何度も　何度も　私を壊して 汗ばむ淋しさを　重ね合わせ 眩しくて见えない　闇に落ちてく いつか灭び逝く　このカラダならば 蚀まれたい　あなたの爱で 私を　汚して　その手で　その手で 中文...迟D先译.... 参考: CD 歌词：哀歌 作词作曲：平井坚 编曲：龟田诚治 中译： 在紧紧的拥抱中 悄悄地 将指尖绕上你的背 铭刻下我的痕迹 更加地 向着梦境而去 纷纷飘扬 飞舞散落的一片花瓣 摇摇晃晃 在彷徨中 失去方向 用那双手 用那双手 将我玷污 反复地 反复地 将我毁坏 汗水与寂寞重叠交织 在太过炫目而看不清楚的黑暗中沉沦 若是这躯体总有一天会灭亡消逝 我愿被侵蚀 在你的爱里 如果这病症有名字的话 便能治愈 害怕著超出限度 请一定 向我心中而来 纷纷飘扬 飞舞散落的一片花瓣 摇摇晃晃 在彷徨中 寻找到你 用这双手 用这双手 将你玷污 反复地 反复地 沉溺于你 不安与喜悦背靠著背 在波涛起伏中将我贯穿 若是这思念终有一天会消失不见 现在用你的爱将我撕裂 用那双手 用那双手 将我玷污 反复地 反复地 将我破坏 汗水与寂寞重叠交织 在太过迷乱而盲目的黑暗中沉沦 若是这躯体总有一天会灭亡消逝 我愿在你的爱里被侵蚀 将我玷污…… 用那双手…… 用那双手…… 参考: 网路

歌曲名:Elegy歌手:Sneaky Thieves专辑:Accident(s)Artist: Leaves" EyesAlbum: Vinland SagaTitle: Elegyby:pUpUTeardrop on a fragile eyelashShe"s looking like a dreamHoping for some understandingAnd answer or at leastCunning word a single sentenceTo restore her heartAching since the day I left herCrossing lonely seasSilent tears of a womanMake a warrior cryHeaven, I beg youPlease release hopes from fearsThis is my elegyDo you know what I feel?This is my elegyDo you believe it"s real?Will I hold you in my arms again?Dewdrops on a single rosebudThis purity of rainReminds me of the moment I left herKisses filled with painAnd if I should leave her waitingFor another yearWill she ever know the answer?Will she follow me?Silent tears of a womanMake her warrior cryHeaven, I beg youPlease release hopes from fearsThis is my elegyDo you know what I feel?This is my elegyDo you believe it"s real?Will I hold you in my arms..Hold you in my arms again?Cunning word, a single sentenceTo restore her heartAching since the day I left herCrossing lonely seashttp://music.baidu.com/song/15048862

歌曲名:Elegy歌手:Ian Tracey专辑:Organ RecitalElegyAmorphis <Elegy>Long evenings full on longingLow-spirited my morningsFull of longing too my nightsAnd all times the bitterest."Tis my lovely I long forIt is my darling I missMy black-browed one I grieve for.Beneath the grass my treasureUnder the sand my sweet oneBeneath the grass my treasureUnder the sand my sweet oneThere"s no hearing my treasureNo seeing my marten-breatNo hearing her in the laneDriving below the windowChopping the wood by the stackClinking outside the cook-houseIn the eart my berry liesBeneath the grass my treasureUnder the sand my sweet oneBeneath the grass my treasureUnder the sand my sweet oneLong evenings full on longingLow-spirited my morningsFull of longing too my nightsAnd all times the bitterest.There"s no hearing my treasureNo seeing my marten-breatNo hearing her in the laneDriving below the windowChopping the wood by the stackClinking outside the cook-houseIn the eart my berry liesIn the soil she"s moulderingUnder the sand my sweet oneBeneath the grass my treasureThe one I grieve for.<SOLO>这首歌出自Amorphis99年同名专辑<Elegy>悲伤的曲调 蜿蜒的旋律 哀婉的歌词 不禁使人窒息于这迷幻的气息中The Endhttp://music.baidu.com/song/3468198

ELERGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD The curfew tolls the knell of parting day; The lowing herd wind slowly o"er the lea; The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. 墓园挽歌 白昼将残尽,晚钟促落晖. 黄犊鸣草原,逶迤缓缓归. 田夫荷锄走,赴家意沉昏. 玄冥盈天地,孤影立乾坤. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds; 夕曛逐黯淡,晚景渐暝灭. 万化皆偃息,阴肃笼四野. 唯见虫旋舞,但闻语切切. 牧 *** 思睡,催羊入圈歇. Save that,from yonder ivy-mantled tower, The moping owl does to the moon plain Of such as,wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign. 薜荔摇青气,蒙络罩尖顶. 栖栖枝上枭,磔磔怨蟾光： 窥我私巢久,徘徊未离休. 古已长居此,何事扰清幽. Beneath those rugged elms,that yew-tree"s shade Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 峥嵘耸青榆,蔼蔼立紫杉. 翳下多荒坟,隆冒蒿草间. 隘隘见方穴,寂寂长眠人. 欲问谁偃卧,野夫与村氓. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock"s shrill clarion,or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. 侵晓花香郁,翦翦风轻唤. 茅庐草堂下,家燕语呢喃. 司晨雄鸡啼,行猎号角鸣. 陋塌一已卧,万声莫能醒. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care; No children run to lisp their sire"s return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. 炉膛火烁烁,主妇忙夜活. 烧饭兼添火,此景已不复. 娇儿尚学语,哑哑迎父归. 爬膝争宠爱,斯景亦难追. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield; Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; How jocund did they drive their team afield! How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke! 昔往镰刀利,行处皆披靡. 瘠土硗薄地,犁沟亦能理. 驱驾于南亩,耦耕欢时务. 千斤挥巨斧,群林纷鞠伏. Let not ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys,and destiny obscure; Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful *** ile The short and simple annals of the poor. 妄者莫嘲讽,劳碌终有功. 微贱无须叹,家乐可颂扬. 蓬户家史短,简略不足耀. 权贵或有闻,无为相讥诮. The boast of heraldry,the pomp of power, And all that beauty,all that wealth e"er gave, Awaits alike the inevitable hour: The paths of glory lead but to the grave. 炫炫之豪族,煌煌之王侯, 美貌所招徕,财货所添购, 最终皆难免,灰飞烟灭时. 荣华何足道,百年归丘垄.

蹲坐在马车上，大声唱着挽歌。望采纳。

回答了那么多，没有加分了，郁闷。。

链接: https://pan.baidu.com/s/155-1vlmgd9S0KdnNwD7GmA 提取码: 3qbw 复制这段内容后打开百度网盘手机App，操作更方便哦 《乡下人的悲歌》是由朗·霍华德执导，艾米·亚当斯、格伦·克洛斯、加布里埃尔·巴索主演的剧情电影，该片于2020年11月24日在流媒体平台Netflix上线。该片改编自J·D·万斯的同名小说，讲述了耶鲁大学法学院学生J·D·万斯因为母亲吸毒过量，正要得到梦寐以求的工作的他被迫回到家乡照顾母亲，并勾起自己的成长记忆的故事如果资源不正确，或者版本不正确，欢迎追问

托马斯 灰色挽歌 写作于郊外墓地准确的说法。

"ELEGY WRITTEN INA COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD"The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,The lowing herd winds slowly o"er the lea,The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,And leaves the world to darkness and to me.Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,And all the air a solemn stillness holds,Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:Save that from yonder ivy-mantled towerThe moping owl does to the moon complainOf such as, wandering near her secret bower,Molest her ancient solitary reign.Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree"s shade,Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep.The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,The cock"s shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,Or busy housewife ply her evening care:No children run to lisp their sire"s return,Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share,Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;How jocund did they drive their team afield!How bow"d the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smileThe short and simple annals of the Poor.The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,And all that beauty, all that wealth e"er gave,Awaits alike th" inevitable hour:-The paths of glory lead but to the grave.Nor you, ye Proud, impute to these the faultIf Memory o"er their tomb no trophies raise,Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vaultThe pealing anthem swells the note of praise.Can storied urn or animated bustBack to its mansion call the fleeting breath?Can Honour"s voice provoke the silent dust,Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death?Perhaps in this neglected spot is laidSome heart once pregnant with celestial fire;Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway"d,Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre:But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,Rich with the spoils of time, did ne"er unroll;Chill Penury repress"d their noble rage,And froze the genial current of the soul.Full many a gem of purest ray sereneThe dark unfathom"d caves of ocean bear:Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,And waste its sweetness on the desert air.Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breastThe little tyrant of his fields withstood,Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country"s blood.Th" applause of list"ning senates to command,The threats of pain and ruin to despise,To scatter plenty o"er a smiling land,And read their history in a nation"s eyes,Their lot forbad: nor circumscribed aloneTheir growing virtues, but their crimes confined;Forbad to wade through slaughter to a throne,And shut the gates of mercy on mankind,The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,Or heap the shrine of Luxury and PrideWith incense kindled at the Muse"s flame.Far from the madding crowd"s ignoble strife,Their sober wishes never learn"d to stray;Along the cool sequester"d vale of lifeThey kept the noiseless tenour of their way.Yet e"en these bones from insult to protectSome frail memorial still erected nigh,With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck"d,Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.Their name, their years, spelt by th" unletter"d Muse,The place of fame and elegy supply:And many a holy text around she strews,That teach the rustic moralist to die.For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,This pleasing anxious being e"er resign"d,Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,Nor cast one longing lingering look behind?On some fond breast the parting soul relies,Some pious drops the closing eye requires;E"en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,E"en in our ashes live their wonted fires.For thee, who, mindful of th" unhonour"d dead,Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;If chance, by lonely contemplation led,Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, --Haply some hoary-headed swain may say,"Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawnBrushing with hasty steps the dews away,To meet the sun upon the upland lawn;"There at the foot of yonder nodding beechThat wreathes its old fantastic roots so high.His listless length at noontide would he stretch,And pore upon the brook that babbles by."Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove;Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn,Or crazed with care, or cross"d in hopeless love."One morn I miss"d him on the custom"d hill,Along the heath, and near his favourite tree;Another came; nor yet beside the rill,Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he;"The next with dirges due in sad arraySlow through the church-way path we saw him borne,-Approach and read (for thou canst read) the layGraved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn."The EpitaphHere rests his head upon the lap of EarthA youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,And Melacholy marked him for her own.Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,Heaven did a recompense as largely send:He gave to Misery all he had, a tear,He gained from Heaven ("twas all he wish"d) a friend.No farther seek his merits to disclose,Or draw his frailties from their dread abode(There they alike in trembling hope repose),The bosom of his Father and his God.By Thomas Gray (1716-71).下面是赏析Commentary by Ian Lancashire(2002/9/9) Critics have spent entire books interpreting Gray"s "Elegy." Is it ironic, as Cleanth Brooks would have us believe, or is it sentimental, as Samuel Johnson might say? Does it express Gray"s melancholic democratic feelings about the oneness of human experience from the perspective of death, or does Gray discuss the life and death of another elegist, one who, in his youth, suffered the same obscurity as the "rude forefathers" in the country graveyard? Should Gray have added the final "Epitaph" to his work? Readers whose memories have made Gray"s "Elegy" one of the most loved poems in English -- nearly three-quarters of its 128 lines appear in the Oxford Book of Quotations -- seem unfazed by these questions. What matters to readers, over time, is the power of "Elegy" to console. Its title describes its function: lamenting someone"s death, and affirming the life that preceded it so that we can be comforted. One may die after decades of anonymous labour, uneducated, unknown or scarcely remembered, one"s potential unrealized, Gray"s poem says, but that life will have as many joys, and far fewer ill effects on others, than lives of the rich, the powerful, the famous. Also, the great memorials that money can buy do no more for the deceased than a common grave marker. In the end, what counts is friendship, being mourned, being cried for by someone who was close. "He gave to Mis"ry all he had, a tear, / He gain"d from Heav"n ("twas all he wish"d) a friend" (123-24). This sentiment, found in the controversial epitaph, affirms what the graveyard"s lonely visitor says earlier: "On some fond breast the parting soul relies, / Some pious drops the closing eye requires" (89-90). Gray"s restraint, his habit of speaking in universals rather than particulars, and his shifting from one speaker to another, control the powerful feelings these lines call up. They frame everything at some distance from the viewer. The poem opens with a death-bell sounding, a knell. The lowing of cattle, the droning of a beetle in flight, the tinkling of sheep-bells, and the owl"s hooting (stanzas 1-3) mourn the passing of a day, described metaphorically as if it were a person, and then suitably the narrator"s eye shifts to a human graveyard. From creatures that wind, plod, wheel, and wander, he looks on still, silent "mould"ring" heaps, and on turf under a moonlit tower where "The rude forefathers" "sleep" in a "lowly bed." Gray makes his sunset a truly human death-knell. No morning bird-song, evening family life, or farming duties (stanzas 5-7) will wake, welcome, or occupy them. They have fallen literally under the sickle, the ploughshare, and the axe that they once wielded. They once tilled glebe land, fields owned by the church, but now lie under another church property, the parish graveyard. This scene remains in memory as the narrator contrasts it with allegorical figures who represent general traits of eighteenth-century humanity: Ambition (29), Grandeur (31), Memory (38), Honour (43), Flattery and Death (44), Knowledge (49), Penury (51), Luxury and Pride (71), Forgetfulness (85), and Nature (91). In shifting from individuals to universal types that characterize the world at large, the poem exchanges country "darkness" for civic and national life. Yet, against expectations, the narrator defends the dead in his remote churchyward cemetery from the contempt of abstractions like Ambition and Grandeur. He makes four arguments. First, the goals of the great, which include aristocratic lineage, beauty, power, wealth, and glory, share the same end as the "rude forefathers," the grave. Human achievements diminish from the viewpoint of the eternal. The monuments that Memory erects for them ("storied urn or animated bust"), the church anthems sung at their funeral, and the praise of Honour or Flattery before or after death also cannot ameliorate that fate. The narrator reduces the important, living and deceased, to the level of the village dead. Secondly, he asks pointedly why, were circumstances different, were they to have been educated with Knowledge"s "roll" and released from "Chill Penury," would they not have achieved as much in poetry and politics as did figures like Hampden, Milton, and Cromwell? Thirdly, the narrator suggests that his unimportant, out-of-power country dead lived morally better lives by being untempted to commit murder or act cruelly. Last, "uncouth rhymes," "shapeless sculpture," and "many a holy text" that characterize their "frail" cemetery memorials, and even those markers with only a simple name and age at death, "spelt by th" unlettered muse" (81), serve the important universal human needs: to prompt "the passing tribute of a sigh" (80) and to "teach the rustic moralist to die" (84). In the next three stanzas, the narrator -- the "me" who with darkness takes over the world at sunset (4) -- finally reveals why he is in the cemetery, telling the "artless tale" of the "unhonour"d Dead" (93). He is one of them. Like the "rude Forefathers" among whom he is found, the narrator ghost is "to Fortune and to Fame unknown" (118). Like anyone who "This pleasing anxious being e"er resigned," he -- in this narrative itself -- casts "one longing, ling"ring look behind" to life (86-88). As he says, "Ev"n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries" (91). He tells us the literal truth in saying, "Ev"n in our ashes live their wonted fires" (92). These fires appear in his ashes, which speak this elegy. He anticipates this astounding confession earlier in saying: Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway"d,or wak"d to ecstasy the living lyre. As Nature"s voice from the dead, the "living lyre," he addresses himself in the past tense as having passed on, as of course he did. Should some "kindred spirit" ask about his "fate," that of the one who describes the dead "in these lines," an old "swain" (shepherd) might describe his last days. If so, he would have seen, with "another" person, the narrator"s bier carried towards the church and his epitaph "Grav"d on the stone" (116). Only a ghost would know, with certainty, that "The paths of glory lead but to the grave" (36). Little wonder that the poem ends with the swain"s invitation to the "kindred spirit" to read the text of the narrator"s own epitaph. The narrator ghost gave "all he had, a tear," and did get the only good he wished for, "a friend." He affirms the value of friendship above all other goods in life. His wish is granted by the kindred spirit who seeks out his lost companion. Critics have gone to some lengths to explain the narrator"s address to himself as "thee" (93). Some believe Gray slipped and meant "me" instead (despite "thy" at 96). Others argue that the dead narrator is "the" unlettered muse," the so-called "stonecutter-poet" who wrote simple epitaphs with "uncouth rhymes" (79-81), although the dead youth"s knowledge of "Fair Science" (119) clearly rules that out. Still others believe that Gray himself is the narrator, but his age at the poem"s completion was 35, hardly a youth. The "Elegy" is spoken, not by Gray but by a dramatic persona. The simplest explanation is that the poem is a ghost"s monologue with the living about death. "Elegy" belongs to the so-called "graveyard" school of poetry. It follows Churchill"s "The Ghost" and anticipates the gothic movement. Gray adopts and

/car 556到564之间吧。/car 560是sultan。因为这6个车ID排在一起了。

      《HillbillyElegy》是耶鲁大学法学院毕业生J.D. Vance的回忆录。J.D. Vance自幼生活在美国阿巴拉契亚山区的Kentucky，这里居住着一群称之为“Hillbilly”（中译为“乡巴佬”）的美国白人劳工阶层，他们的生活图景与我们所熟知的美国中产阶级白人印象相去甚远。这里民风彪悍，在法律之外自有一套道德体系，人们崇尚用暴力解决纠纷，极力维护持枪权；贫困、家庭暴力、毒品就如同遗传病，在一代代人中不断复发，像一个漩涡，限制了眼界，摧毁了心智，让人不敢对生活有丝毫的信心，如此往复，恶性循环。        J.D. Vance无疑是Hillbilly中的幸运儿。他的家庭有着Hillbilly典型的特征：长辈们酗酒、暴力，从未接受过高等教育；母亲在高中毕业即怀孕、结婚、离婚，紧接着出现了无数个短暂的男友，也毫无意外地成为一个瘾君子。作者自小在家庭暴力中成长，因为母亲频繁更换男友而时常搬家、居无定所，曾亲眼目睹母亲被警察逮捕，他本应和其他人一样，带着幼时的各种创伤，也成为一个贫穷、懒惰、暴力的Hillbilly。让他有机会摆脱这一切的是他的外婆，作者称她为Mamaw。虽然Mamaw也是举止粗鲁、崇尚暴力，但却能够让作者在动荡的成长历程中有一个安定的庇护所，让他感受到持续的安全感和爱；更重要的是，Mamaw始终认为教育是Hillbilly们改变命运的少数选择之一，她鼓励作者无论如何也要进入大学深造。在Mamaw的庇护和鼓励下，J.D. Vance顺利地完成了高中学业，随后进入了美国海军陆战队并参加了伊拉克战争，战后进入俄亥俄州立大学及耶鲁大学法学院学习，是耶鲁大学法学院极少数来自底层阶层的学生之一。他的人生轨迹可以说是屌丝逆袭，是美国梦的典型。       《HillbillyElegy》原本只是作者比较私人的回忆录，但却在2017年特朗普当选为美国总统后，一跃登上《纽约时报》畅销书排行榜榜首，因为人们认为这本书所描写的美国底层白人劳工阶层的生活状况，正是特朗普当选的背后推动力，很多人希望通过该书来读懂美国真实的样子从而理解特朗普提出的“重燃美国梦”的含义。        过去几十年中我们常听到美国梦，但《Hillbilly Elegy》让我们看到，美国梦的光环下，有多少美国底层白人陷入泥淖无法自拔。J.D. Vance在书中表示，这些底层白人对生活缺乏信心，他们从来不认为自己和中产白人是同一类人，他们也不信任任何代表精英阶层的政客，痛恨这些政客所推行的全球化政策，因为正是这些政策，让美国的制造业岗位不断减少，塑造了现在的“铁锈”地带，而失业是生活崩溃的根源。所以，特朗普的反全球化政策自然是正中他们下怀，他们便用手中的选票和精英阶层相抗衡，特朗普总统才有机会横空出世。        除了宏观的大环境，《HillbillyElegy》更多的笔墨还是放在个人的成长路径上。J.D. Vance回忆他的逆袭之路，除了个人努力外，他还强调了让他得以避免重走Hillbilly们阴暗的老路的两个重要因素：人际支持、教育。所谓人际支持（social capital），并不是我们常说的混圈子，而是我们和周围的人的关系，以及通过周围的人看到更多的可能性，看向更远的世界。现在有种流行的口号叫“做自己”，但其实我们对人生本应该怎么过一无所知。人类是模仿的动物，我们对人生道路的所有计划都是一种模仿，我们想做医生、老师，是因为生活中熟识的某人是医生、老师；我们想辞职旅行，是因为我们听说了某人辞职旅行。我们是通过周围的人的眼睛看到另一边的世界，从而形成了我们自己的世界观。所谓“良师益友”是也，所谓“近朱者赤近墨者黑”是也。教育的重要性就更加不容置疑了，尽管读书无用论甚嚣尘上。教育并不是人生的独木桥，但确是留给陷入绝境的人走出困境的最后道路。        美国阿巴拉契亚山区遥远而陌生，面临的困境和生活的方向也与我们截然不同，但对美好生活的追求却是人类永恒的主题。美国梦和中国梦都是人类文明的荣光，但当两者相互纠缠相互竞争时，我们也丝毫不能低估Hillbilly们打破生活牢笼向上努力的决心和能量。

我找了大半天，还是没找到，这么一点资料不知对有用否？万能土豆泥-莱纳·维尔纳·法斯宾德既然土豆泥这么迷恋德国，那么我也就顺水推舟地把他端上我心目中耽美界的法斯宾德的位置罢。说实话，法斯宾德的大部分作品比大卫·芬奇的还叫我不能忍受。太残酷太冷血，用他一部著名电影的题目作个总结就是“爱比死更冷”。法斯宾德一生只活了37岁，又吸毒又搞同性恋，还残酷地逼死了自己的情人，最后自己也死于用药（说这么好听其实就是吸毒啦）过量，简直是个亚神经病。他信奉卑鄙的爱情等级论，认为被爱的就是可以对爱人的为所欲为，单方面付出的感情既然这么义无返顾，被残酷地践踏也就心安理得理所当然了。不过这不妨碍他在短短的人生中拍出了43部作品拿了成堆的奖杯，成为德国乃至世界最有名的导演之一。当然，土豆大人绝对没那么糟，他顶多是有点糟。不过我怀抱着最美好的愿望相信他会好起来，跟法斯宾德先生一样多产，却不像他这么短命。不管法斯宾德在人生上干得有多失败，他的事业毋庸置疑是成功了。目前看来土豆离他的距离还有些远，不过只要“是金子就会发光”这句俗套话不是谎言，那么这位作者还是很值得期待的。BTW，我希望他能在写多尔夫上尉的故事时，不要把MV的修缮放任掉，另外，我也很好奇什么时候棉布会出新章，如果觉得继续不下去干嘛不把它了结了呢？万能土豆泥代表作：《Reinhard"s Elegy》（待修）《MeinVerbrechen》（待修）《再见列宁》莱纳·维尔纳·法斯宾德代表作： 《爱比死更冷》《当心圣妓》《莉莉玛莲》《水手奎雷尔》关键字：错乱，冷酷，意识流

Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard墓园挽歌网络释义Nor is it written in a country"s stars. 这也没被写进一个国家必然的命运中。

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下载一个刷车工具，然后打开游戏，再打开刷车工具，在一个对话框输入elegy，在按回车，回到游戏，你面前就有一个这样的车了

elegy : a mournful poem; a lament for the dead中文意思是：悲歌, 哀歌, 挽歌

elegy 英[ˈelədʒi]美[ˈɛlədʒi]n. 哀歌，挽歌;[网络] 哀歌; 悼词; 悲歌;[例句]A touching elegy for a lost friend致亡友的感人挽歌[其他] 复数：elegies