感动人的爱情诗歌朗诵 篇1
《我不该学会爱》
作者：离开水的鱼
空心
你可以一步走过我
从身后到身前
我的经年和未年成河
温度还在
风让我紧张
水让我懦弱
你拍一下我的水面
听不见我心脏的回应
你可以一箭射穿我
从正面到负面
你看不透我的虫洞
温度不在
我的冷和黑成灾
冷了热爱，黑了行程
你撞一下我的世界
只能听见不带感情的回音
于是
我停下
像一颗梧桐
年年开花
岁岁空心
渺小
有一个角色叫渺小
人间太大，大得看不见你
每一次蜕变
人间太小，小得容不下你
每一次转身
将你看成一小点涟漪
无限放大，才看清
你波动的纹路
决定
做一只小小的浮游
在显微镜下生活
渴望获得轮回的衍变
渴望永不在阴暗繁衍
多想，冲开生的规则
那要命的天堂啊，皈依
在哪里
须臾
冲过天堂漏雨的房檐
藏身地狱繁华的街头
方寸之间
我猜测着世界的大小
我不该学会爱
如果是糖
却为何甜到绝望
如果是药
又为何毒到忧伤
人群中，我漂浮着
从凝实到融化
带着破碎的声音
蝴蝶总被花朵出卖
你，不能只是我的梦
不用，画一颗心供我充饥
你看那一只枯叶蝶
习惯收紧自己的疼痛
放开的翅膀又那么柔软
也许，他从未畏惧死亡
也从不回避对花丛的热爱
它惧怕的是另一只蝶的离去
我不是蝴蝶
车来人往的夹缝
还如何冲动
我本不该学会爱
回到没有棱角的躯体
象征的河不被赋予浪漫
路灯一如既往地抽象
我吧我的具体放下帷幕
一张蛛网恰到好处遮住目光
远方的亮和暗无法亲近
感动人的爱情诗歌朗诵 篇2
Companionship of Books
A man may usually be known by the books he reads as well as by the company he keeps; for there is a companionship of books as well as of men; and one should always live in the best company, whether it be of books or of men.
A good book may be among the best of friends. It is the same today that it always was, and it will never change. It is the most patient and cheerful of companions. It does not turn its back upon us in times of adversity or distress. It always receives us with the same kindness; amusing and instructing us in youth, and comforting and consoling us in age.
Men often discover their affinity to each other by the mutual love they have for a book just as two persons sometimes discover a friend by the admiration which both entertain for a third. There is an old proverb, ‘Love me, love my dog.” But there is more wisdom in this:” Love me, love my book.” The book is a truer and higher bond of union. Men can think, feel, and sympathize with each other through their favorite author. They live in him together, and he in them.
A good book is often the best urn of a life enshrining the best that life could think out; for the world of a man’s life is, for the most part, but the world of his thoughts. Thus the best books are treasuries of good words, the golden thoughts, which, remembered and cherished, become our constant companions and comforters.
Books possess an essence of immortality. They are by far the most lasting products of human effort. Temples and statues decay, but books survive. Time is of no account with great thoughts, which are as fresh today as when they first passed through their author’s minds, ages ago. What was then said and thought still speaks to us as vividly as ever from the printed page. The only effect of time have been to sift out the bad products; for nothing in literature can long survive e but what is really good.
Books introduce us into the best society; they bring us into the presence of the greatest minds that have ever lived. We hear what they said and did; we see the as if they were really alive; we sympathize with them, enjoy with them, grieve with them; their experience becomes ours, and we feel as if we were in a measure actors with them in the scenes which they describe.
The great and good do not die, even in this world. Embalmed in books, their spirits walk abroad. The book is a living voice. It is an intellect to which on still listens.