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Puisi dalam bahasa Inggris adalah sebuah hal penting yang sudah seharusnya dipelajari dengan baik. Melalui sebuah puisi, Anda mampu menghadirkan ekspresi jiwa mulai dari sedih, gembira, atau ekpresi sebuah rasa jatuh cinta yang membingungkan. Kendati demikian, terkadang membuat sebuah puisi terutama dalam bahasa Inggris tidaklah semudah yang anda bayangkan. Anda bukan hanya mengekspresikan pikiran ke dalam kata-kata, namun juga harus membentuknya secara indah sehingga tampil begitu menarik. Sebagai contoh, pada akhir bagian dari sebuah baris puisi, terdapat bagian-bagian yang mempunyai bunyi sama. Itu merupakan kesulitan sendiri bagi sei pembuat puisi.
Kompilasi Puisi dalam Bahasa Inggris karya Achmad Yudi Wahyudin, yang diciptakan pada tahun 2011 bisa Anda lihat berikut ini.
The Pain of Japan
Whose heart not shake on the land of Fuji
You’ll stop to walk as if you dare to see
People cry and wonder how it could be
To watch the towns were swept over by sea
The sounds of loud emerge on downtown day
To warn occupants stay out from the bay
They can neither loudly whisper nor say
Only stand up there to hope wish and pray
The room they stay is not wide but narrow
a tremor comes and tremble them in row
still heart never cry for help to borrow
Hardly wait for the end of this sorrow
Empty Dump
The wind always comes near and leaves
The waves sweeps the coral and reefs
In a beach I look at the sky
But the clouds never touch the cliffs
The trees around it are so shady
All seagulls snatch the fishes so greedy
I’m so limp to walk over this
A deep sadness wracks my steady
And so dolefull its dolefullness
Will be more dolefull and be less-
The heavy flow unstopped rain
With no loves for downheartedness
The sunshine fades, the dusk has come
Since the waves always break the lump
The deep lost makes this heart no use
It seems so like an empty dump
I heard a nice song –when I slept
I heard a nice song―when I slept―
The beat of a harmony
Was like harmonical in dept―
And free from agony
The air around―was felt so cool―
Between the floor―and throne
Drape and blanket was made from wool―
The most pain was thrown
I kept my rhythm in the flow
How blissful of me be―
Like the wind never stop to blow
I felt a joy in me―
There was a nice song and I heard―
Beside the Wall―and me―
Three birds sung happily in herd
But I’m sleepy to see―
The principle derived from his life
The principle derived from his life -
tough - and hearty -
immensely sharp like a knife -
with symphaty -
modest - full of mediocrity -
he stooped - and pace -
enclose the versatility -
keep at the base
A life with hopes and wishes -
no ambition -
he keeps his venture in toughness -
for his vision –
A Man to His Woman
There is story in your eyes
I can see the hurt behind your smile
For every time I recognize
You always turn your face
And keep in silence
So, let me be the one who know your best
Be the one who carry you
When you can walk no further
Tell me once again
What beneath the pain you feel
Please don’t abandon me
Or think you can’t be saved
I walk beside you
Whereever you are
Whatever it takes
No matter how far
Through all the day that may come
And all that may go
Here, I tell you
That I always walk beside you
My Dad’s Stories
My dad has an inspiring stories
My dad has an unforgetable stories
Sunday Morning on the terrace
My dad sits down and gets his coffee
And tells me stories
Little child
Working in the hot sun
And little child
Walking on the long street
And little child
Delivering a heap of newspaper door to door
Take himself hardly
In every steps of his foots
Take himself hardly
Under the hot sun that brighter and brighter
My dad’s stories
And the brown-faced child, listening
Realizes that my dad’s stories are true stories
He realizes that my dad’s stories are never lie
Out of any script at all
But that the stories come
Right now in front of his face
The brown-faced child is silent
In a Sunday Morning
Listening to My Dad’s Stories
Falling in Love
Love is such kind of disaster,
It can make you insane,
scramble for no reason
symptoms of falling in love
are giving without asking
endless sacrifice;
are craving and immolation―
bleeding for a touch,
struggling for a kiss.
For only a single tryst
In a secret place
To fulfill an unshaken desire
But don’t go into so far !
Could you bear such responsibility
and be conscientious?
The Lowly Proletarian
That is the lowly proletarian head
hung on the wall as if she were alive,
That piece of such body, now, My fellow's hands
Drew a full-bleed-sword, and there she stands.
Will't please you stand and look at her? I said
that's "My superiority" , for never understand
a low man like you that execution,
The foolishness of her earnest manner,
But to myself they turned (since none dare
to see The punishment I have drawn for you)
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
How such a glance came there; so not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. My queen, 'twas not
Her face doesn't seem to show regret, called the spot
Of joy into the girl's smile; perhaps
my headsman failed to say, "Her collar
Over the girl's neck too much," or "Hanging
Must never hope to reproduce the faint
Half - flush that dies along her throat," Such stuff
Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough
For calling up that spot of joy. She brought
to me - how shall I say? - such as a disgrace,
a lowly proletarian like her; she didn't realize
with whom she stood, and how high did she step.
Sir, you knew! My son has fallen on her chest,
The only one of my little bright jewel,
A tangled weed with some officious fool
Broke in the shack for her, the white pale face
She rode with my highborn son - all and each
Would draw from her alike the fully embarrassment,
Or her touch, at least. I have warned, but she declined
Somehow - I know not how - as if she ranked
My pride of a seven descendants old name
With same anybody's level. Who'd stoop to blame
This sort of trifling? Even had you pure
In deeds - which I have not - to make your will
Quite clear to such a body, and say "awfully cruel
Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss,
Or there got beyond hers " -and if she knew
Herself and did an opposite manner
her idiocy would, forsooth, be excused-
But she went so far; and I surely choose
Never to forgive. Oh sir, she smiled, no doubt,
When'er I looked her; she always passed with my
son's hand in her clench. This grew; I gave commands;
Then her smiles stopped at once. There her head
hung as if alive. Will 't please you rise your head?
and never give such mourning. I repeat
The belly of my white great Begugha
Is more important than you just stand there
I prepare for highest dowry of mine;
Though your fair daughter's self, as I avowed
At starting, is my object. Nay, we'll go
through my palace to my hall, sir. you know
Kekuk Suik is such a man of rarity,
Which another king will be kneeling at me!
Terima kasih kepada Achmad Yudi Wahyudin yang telah mengirimkan puisi dalam bahasa Inggris di atas. Semoga menginspirasi Anda.
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