染雾优美英语散文 篇一
The Whisper of Nature
The sun was setting, casting a warm golden glow over the tranquil lake. The gentle rustle of the wind through the leaves created a soothing melody, as the birds chirped their evening song. Nature seemed to come alive in the soft light, painting a picture of serenity and peace.
I sat on the grassy bank, feeling the cool breeze on my skin and breathing in the fresh scent of earth and water. The worries and stresses of the day melted away, replaced by a sense of calm and tranquility. In that moment, I felt truly connected to the world around me, as if nature was whispering its secrets to me.
As the sky turned a deep shade of purple, the first stars began to twinkle above. I closed my eyes and listened to the symphony of nature around me – the gentle lapping of the waves, the distant call of an owl, the rustle of small creatures in the bushes. It was a symphony of life, a reminder of the beauty and wonder that surrounded me every day.
In that peaceful moment, I made a promise to myself – to take the time to listen to nature's whispers, to appreciate the beauty that surrounded me, and to always remember the power of the natural world to heal and restore. And as I watched the last rays of sunlight disappear behind the horizon, I felt a deep sense of gratitude for the simple, exquisite beauty of the world around me.
优美英语散文 篇二
A Symphony of Seasons
Spring arrived in a riot of color and sound, as the world burst into bloom. The air was filled with the sweet scent of flowers, and the sound of birdsong echoed through the trees. Everywhere I looked, nature was coming alive after the long winter slumber, and I felt my spirits lift in response to the vibrant energy of the season.
Summer followed, with its lazy days and warm nights. The sun beat down relentlessly, filling the air with a heavy, humid heat. But despite the sweltering temperatures, there was a sense of freedom and joy in the air. The days stretched out endlessly before me, filled with possibility and adventure, and I reveled in the simple pleasure of long walks in the sunshine and late nights spent under the stars.
Autumn crept in slowly, painting the world in shades of gold and red. The air turned crisp and cool, and the leaves rustled underfoot as I walked through the woods. There was a sense of nostalgia in the air, a bittersweet reminder of the passage of time and the changing of the seasons. But there was also a beauty in the fading light and the falling leaves, a reminder that even as things came to an end, there was always the promise of a new beginning.
And finally, winter arrived, cloaking the world in a blanket of white. The air was sharp and cold, but there was a quiet beauty in the snow-covered landscape. The world seemed to slow down, as if nature itself was taking a deep breath and preparing for the cycle to begin anew. And as I stood in the stillness of the winter night, watching the snowflakes fall gently to the ground, I felt a sense of peace and wonder at the beauty of the world and the ever-turning wheel of the seasons.
优美英语散文 篇三
充满微笑的世界
About ten years ago when I was an undergraduate in college, I was working as an intern at my University’s Museum of Natural History. One day while working at the cash register in the gift shop, I saw an elderly couple come in with a little girl in a wheelchair.
As I looked closer at this girl, I saw that she was kind of perched on her chair. I then realized she had no arms or legs, just a head, neck and torso. She was wearing a little white dress with red polka dots.
As the couple wheeled her up to me I was looking down at the register. I turned my head toward the girl and gave her a wink. As I took the money from her grandparents, I looked back at the girl, who was giving me the cutest, largest smile I have ever seen. All of a sudden her handicap was gone and all I saw was this beautiful girl, whose smile just melted me and almost instantly gave me a completely new sense of what life is all about. She took me from a poor, unhappy college student and brought me into her world; a world of smiles, love and warmth.
That was ten years ago. I’m a successful business person now and whenever I get down and think about the troubles of the world, I think about that little girl and the remarkable lesson about life that she taught me.
十年前我还是一名在校大学生，那时我在学校的自然历史博物馆实习。一天，在礼品店的收银机那儿工作时，我看到一对老年夫妇推着一个坐轮椅的小女孩走了进来。
近看这个小女孩时，我注意到她几乎是完全被放在轮椅里，意识到她没有胳膊和腿，只剩下了头部、脖子以及躯干了。她穿着一件小白裙，上面还有红色的圆点花纹。
当这对夫妇推着她走到我身边时，我低头看了看清单。转头看到小女孩，于是我对她眨了眨眼睛。从她爷爷奶奶手中接钱的时候，我又看了一眼小女孩，她正向我展示我所见过的最可爱、最宽大的笑容。就在那一霎那间，她的身体缺陷消失了，我看到的只是一个美丽的女孩儿，她的笑容使我融化，并几乎立刻使我对人生有了一种新的认识。她把我这个贫穷而不幸的大学生带进了她的世界，一个充满微笑、爱和温暖的世界。
那已经是十年前的事情了。现在我已经成为一名成功的商人。无论何时当我感到沮丧，回想到世界上的烦恼时，我就会想起那个小女孩以及她教给我的那堂不寻常的课。
优美英语散文 篇四
祈祷之手
The true story behind a well-known piece of art:
Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived a family with eighteen children. Eighteen! In order merely to keep food on the table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any other paying chore he could find in the neighborhood. Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, two of Albrecht Durer the Elders children had a dream. They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but they knew full well that their father would never be financially able to send either of them to Nuremberg to studyat the Academy.
After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down into the nearby mines and, with his earnings, support his brother while he attended the academy. Then, when that brother who won the toss completed his studies, in four years, he would support the other brother at the academy, either with sales of his artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring the mines.
They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg. Albert went down into the dangerous mines and, for the next four years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate sensation. Albrechts etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.
When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrechts triumphant homecoming. After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his honored position at the head of the table to drink a toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing words were, "And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will take care of you."
All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side while he sobbed and repeated, over and over, "No no no no."
Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down the long table at the faces he loved, and then, holding his hands close to his right cheek, he said softly, "No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look look what four years in the mines has done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No, brother for me it is too late."
More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durers hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, watercolors, charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great museum, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durers works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.
One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brothers abused hands with palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply "Hands," but the entire world almost immediately opened their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love "The Praying Hands."
The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, take a second look. Let it be your reminder, if you still need one, that no one -no one ever makes it alone!
德国艺术大师Albrecht Durer有一幅名画“祈祷之手”，这幅画的背后有一则爱与牺牲的故事。
十五世纪时，在德国的一个小村庄里，住了一个有十八个孩子的家庭。父亲是一名冶金匠，为了维持一家生计，他每天工作十八个小时。
生活尽管窘迫逼人，然而这个家庭其中两个孩子却有一个同样的梦想。他们两人都希望可以发展自己在艺术方面的天份。不过他们也了解，父亲无法在经济上供他们俩到纽伦堡艺术学院读书。
晚上，两兄弟在床上经过多次讨论后，得出结论：以掷铜板决定──胜者到艺术学院读书，败者则到附近的矿场工作赚钱;四年后，在矿场工作的那一个再到艺术学院读书，由学成毕业那一个赚钱支持。如果需要，可能也要到矿场工作。
星期日早上做完礼拜，他们掷了铜板，结果，弟弟Albrecht Durer胜出，去了纽伦堡艺术学院。哥哥Albert则去了危险的矿场工作，四年来一直为弟弟提供经济支持。Albrecht在艺术学院表现很突出，他的油画简直比教授的还要好。到毕业时，他的作品已经能赚不少钱了。
在这位年轻的艺术家返回家乡的那一天，家人为他准备了盛宴，庆祝他学成归来。当漫长而难忘的宴席快要结束时，伴随着音乐和笑声，亚尔伯起身答谢敬爱的哥哥几年来对他的支持，他说：“现在轮到你了，亲爱的哥哥，我会全力支持你到纽伦堡艺术学院攻读，实现你的梦想!”
所有的目光都急切地转移到桌子的另一端，坐在那里的Albert双泪直流，只见他垂下头，边摇头边重复说着：“不……不……”
终于，Albert站了起来他，擦干脸颊上的泪水，看了看长桌两边他所爱的亲友们的脸，把双手移近右脸颊，说：“不，弟弟，我上不了纽伦堡艺术学院了。太迟了。看看我的双手──四年来在矿场工作，毁了我的手，关节动弹不得，现在我的手连举杯为你庆贺也不可能，何况是挥动画笔或雕刻刀呢?不，弟弟……已经太迟了……”
四百五十多年过去了，Albrecht Durer有成千上百部的杰作流传下来，他的速写、素描、水彩画、木刻、铜刻等可以在世界各地博物馆找到;然而，大多数人最为熟悉的，却是其中的一件作品。也许，你的家里或者办公室里就悬挂着一件它的复制品。
为了补偿哥哥所做的.牺牲，表达对哥哥的敬意，一天，Albrecht Durer下了很大的工夫把哥哥合起的粗糙的双手刻了下来。他把这幅伟大的作品简单地称为“双手”，然而，全世界的人都立刻敞开心扉，瞻仰这幅杰作，把这幅爱的作品重新命名为“祈祷之手”。
下次当你看到这幅感人的作品，仔细看一下。如果你也需要这么一幅画，就让它成为你的提醒，没有──它是世上独一无二的事物。
优美英语散文 篇五
父爱无边
My father was a self-taught mandolin player. He was one of the best string instrument players in our town. He could not read music, but if he heard a tune a few times, he could play it. When he was younger, he was a member of a small country music band. They would play at local dances and on a few occasions would play for the local radio station. He often told us how he had auditioned and earned a position in a band that featured Patsy Cline as their lead singer. He told the family that after he was hired he never went back. Dad was a very religious man. He stated that there was a lot of drinking and cursing the day of his audition and he did not want to be around that type of environment.
Occasionally, Dad would get out his mandolin and play for the family. We three children: Trisha, Monte and I, George Jr., would often sing along. Songs such as the Tennessee Waltz, Harbor Lights and around Christmas time, the well-known rendition of Silver Bells. "Silver Bells, Silver Bells, its Christmas time in the city" would ring throughout the house. One of Dads favorite hymns was "The Old Rugged Cross". We learned the words to the hymn when we were very young, and would sing it with Dad when he would play and sing. Another song that was often shared in our house was a song that accompanied the Walt Disney series: Davey Crockett. Dad only had to hear the song twice before he learned it well enough to play it. "Davey, Davey Crockett, King of the Wild Frontier" was a favorite song for the family. He knew we enjoyed the song and the program and would often get out the mandolin after the program was over. I could never get over how he could play the songs so well after only hearing them a few times. I loved to sing, but I never learned how to play the mandolin. This is something I regret to this day.
Dad loved to play the mandolin for his family he knew we enjoyed singing, and hearing him play. He was like that. If he could give pleasure to others, he would, especially his family. He was always there, sacrificing his time and efforts to see that his family had enough in their life. I had to mature into a man and have children of my own before I realized how much he had sacrificed.
I joined the United States Air Force in January of 1962. Whenever I would come home on leave, I would ask Dad to play the mandolin. Nobody played the mandolin like my father. He could touch your soul with the tones that came out of that old mandolin. He seemed to shine when he was playing. You could see his pride in his ability to play so well for his family.
When Dad was younger, he worked for his father on the farm. His father was a farmer and sharecropped a farm for the man who owned the property. In 1950, our family moved from the farm. Dad had gained employment at the local limestone quarry. When the quarry closed in August of 1957, he had to seek other employment. He worked for Owens Yacht Company in Dundalk, Maryland and for Todd Steel in Point of Rocks, Maryland. While working at Todd Steel, he was involved in an accident. His job was to roll angle iron onto a conveyor so that the welders farther up the production line would have it to complete their job. On this particular day Dad got the third index finger of his left hand mashed between two pieces of steel. The doctor who operated on the finger could not save it, and Dad ended up having the tip of the finger amputated. He didnt lose enough of the finger where it would stop him picking up anything, but it did impact his ability to play the mandolin.
After the accident, Dad was reluctant to play the mandolin. He felt that he could not play as well as he had before the accident. When I came home on leave and asked him to play he would make excuses for why he couldnt play. Eventually, we would wear him down and he would say "Okay, but remember, I cant hold down on the strings the way I used to" or "Since the accident to this finger I cant play as good". For the family it didnt make any difference that Dad couldnt play as well. We were just glad that he would play. When he played the old mandolin it would carry us back to a cheerful, happier time in our lives. "Davey, Davey Crockett, King of the Wild Frontier", would again be heard in the little town of Bakerton, West Virginia.
In August of 1993 my father was diagnosed with inoperable lung cancer. He chose not to receive chemotherapy treatments so that he could live out the rest of his life in dignity. About a week before his death, we asked Dad if he would play the mandolin for us. He made excuses but said "okay". He knew it would probably be the last time he would play for us. He tuned up the old mandolin and played a few notes. When I looked around, there was not a dry eye in the family. We saw before us a quiet humble man with an inner strength that comes from knowing God, and living with him in ones life. Dad would never play the mandolin for us again. We felt at the time that he wouldnt have enough strength to play, and that makes the memory of that day even stronger. Dad was doing something he had done all his life, giving. As sick as he was, he was still pleasing others. Dad sure could play that Mandolin!
我父亲是个自学成才的曼陀林琴手，他是我们镇最优秀的弦乐演奏者之一。他看不懂乐谱，但是如果听几次曲子，他就能演奏出来。当他年轻一点的时候，他是一个小乡村乐队的成员。他们在当地舞厅演奏，有几次还为当地广播电台演奏。他经常告诉我们，自己如何试演，如何在佩茜?克莱恩作为主唱的乐队里占一席之位。他告诉家人，一旦被聘用就永不回头。父亲是一个很严谨的人，他讲述了他试演的那天，很多人在喝酒，咒骂，他不想呆在那种环境里。
有时候，父亲会拿出曼陀林，为家人弹奏。我们三个小孩：翠莎、蒙蒂和我，还有乔治通常会伴唱。唱的有：《田纳西华尔兹》和《海港之光》，到了圣诞节，就唱脍炙人口的《银铃》："银铃，银铃，城里来了圣诞节。"歌声充满了整个房子。父亲最爱的其中一首赞歌是《古老的十字架》。我们很小的时候就学会歌词了，而且在父亲弹唱的时候，我们也跟着唱。我们经常一起唱的另外一首歌来自沃特?迪斯尼的系列片：《戴维?克罗克特》。父亲只要听了两遍就弹起来了，"戴维，戴维.克罗克特，荒野边疆的国王。"那是我们家最喜欢的歌曲。他知道我们喜欢那首歌和那个节目，所以每次节目结束后，他就拿出曼陀林弹奏。我永远不能明白他如何能听完几遍后就能把一首曲子弹得那么好。我热爱唱歌，但我没有学会如何弹奏曼陀林，这是我遗憾至今的事情。
父亲喜欢为家人弹奏曼陀林，他知道我们喜欢唱歌，喜欢听他弹奏。他就是那样，如果他能把快乐奉献给别人，他从不吝啬，尤其是对他的家人。他总是那样，牺牲自己的时间和精力让家人生活得满足。父亲的这种付出是只有当我长大成人，而且是有了自己的孩子后才能体会到的。
我在1962年1月加入了美国空军基地。每当我休假回家，我都请求父亲弹奏曼陀林。没有人弹奏曼陀林能达到像我父亲那样的境界，他在那古老的曼陀林上抚出的旋律能够触及你的灵魂。他弹奏的时候，身上似乎能发出四射的光芒。你可以看出，父亲为能给家人弹奏出如此美妙的旋律，他是多么的自豪。
父亲年轻的时候，曾在农场为爷爷工作。爷爷是农场使用者，要向农场所有人交纳谷物抵租。1950年，我们全家搬离农场，父亲在当地石灰石采石场谋得职位。采石场在1957年倒闭，他只好另觅工作。他曾在马里兰州登多克的欧文斯游艇公司上班，还在马里兰州的洛斯的托德钢铁公司上过班。在托德钢铁公司上班期间，他遇到了意外。他的工作是把有棱角的铁滚到搬运台上，这样焊接工才能作进一步加工来完成整个工序。在那个特殊的日子里，父亲的左手第三个手指被缠在两片钢铁中。医生对手指施手术，但未能保住那只手指，最后父亲只好让医生把那手指的指尖给切除了。那个手指并没有完全丧失拿东西的能力，但是却影响了他弹奏曼陀林的能力。
事故后，父亲不太愿意弹奏曼陀林了，他觉得再也不能像以前弹得那么好了。我休假回家请求他弹奏曼陀林，他以种种借口解释不能弹奏的原因。最后，我们软硬兼施逼他就范，他终于说："好吧，但是记住，我拨弦再也不能像过去一样了。"或者会说："这个手指出意外后，我再也不能弹得像过去那样好了。"对于家人来说，父亲弹得好不好并没有分别，我们很高兴他终于弹奏了。当他弹起那把陈旧的曼陀林，就会把我们带回昔日那些无忧无虑的幸福时光。"戴维，戴维.克罗克特，荒野边疆的国王"就会再次响彻西弗吉尼亚州的贝克顿小镇。
1993年8月，父亲诊断得了不宜动手术的肺癌。他不想接受化疗，因为他想体面地过完他生命最后的时光。大约在父亲去世的一周前，我们请求他能否为我们弹奏曼陀林，他说了很多借口，最后还是答应了。他知道这可能是他最后一次为我们弹奏了，他为老曼陀林调弦，弹了几个音。我环顾四周，家人个个都泪水满眶。我们看见在我们面前是一个安静的、谦虚的人，以生命最后的力量，用爱的力量支撑着。父亲再也没有足够的力量弹奏，这使我们对那天的记忆更加强烈。父亲做着他一生都在做的事情：奉献。即使生命已走到了尽头，他却仍尽力为他人创造欢乐。没错，父亲一定还能弹奏曼陀林的。
