他杀死的人哈代一诗

nullnullWang Wei & Lv Xiangping Class4 Y2008 2010-10-22(Fri) null 1840- Thomas Hardy was born on 2 June 1840. 1862- He moved to London to study architecture at King's College, London. 1867- His first novel, The Poor Man and the Lady(unpublished) was written in 1867 1870- Thomas Hardy met his first wife Emma Lavinia1874- Hardy and Emma married ; Far from the Madding Crowd was published in 1874. 1886- He wrote The Mayor of Casterbridge, published in 1886. 1891- Tess of the D‘urbervilles was published 1895- Jude the Obscure was published 1898- Hardy's first volume of poetry, Wessex Poems was published in 1898. 1912- His first wife Emma died. 1914- He married Florence Dugdale. 1927- Hardy fell sick with pleurisy. 1928- Thomas Hardy died. nullShakespeare of English Novel Tess of the D‘urbervilles 德伯家的苔丝Jude the Obscure 无名的裘德Hardy’s PoetryHardy’s PoetryThe Photograph (1890) Wessex Poems and Other Verses (1898) Poems of the Past and Present (1901) The Man He Killed (1902) Time's Laughingstocks and Other Verses (1909) The Voice (1912) Satires of Circumstance (1914) Moments of Vision (1917) Collected Poems (1919) Late Lyrics and Earlier with Many Other Verses (1922) Human Shows, Far Phantasies, Songs and Trifles (1925) Winter Words in Various Moods and Metres (1928) null Hardy as a poet showed a sharp observation of his surrounding and nature and wrote poems that displayed his affection for natural world. Although like his novels, his poems also carry strain of irony of life, cruel fate and regrets. The Man He KilledThe Man He KillednullHad he and I but met     By some old ancient inn, We should have set us down to wet     Right many a nipperkin!     But ranged as infantry,     And staring face to face, I shot at him as he at me,     And killed him in his place.     I shot him dead because—     Because he was my foe, Just so: my foe of course he was;     That's clear enough; although He thought he'd 'list, perhaps,     Off-hand like—just as I— Was out of work—had sold his traps—     No other reason why.     Yes; quaint and curious war is!     You shoot a fellow down You'd treat, if met where any bar is,     Or help to half a crown.    Nipperkin-n. A small cup Infantry-n. An army unit consisting of soldiers who fight on footQuaint-adj. Very strange or unusualTraps-n. The tools or trappings of a particular trade.Crown-克朗(英国25便士的货币）nullHad he and I but met     By some old ancient inn, We should have set us down to wet     Right many a nipperkin!     But ranged as infantry,     And staring face to face, I shot at him as he at me,     And killed him in his place. IF I had met the "enemy" at an inn, than we would have sat down for a drink and drunk many a glass as friends. We are both firing at each other and I manage to kill him. null     I shot him dead because—     Because he was my foe, Just so: my foe of course he was;     That's clear enough; although He thought he'd 'list, perhaps,     Off-hand like—just as I— Was out of work—had sold his traps—     No other reason why.     Yes; quaint and curious war is!     You shoot a fellow down You'd treat, if met where any bar is,     Or help to half a crown.    I falter while try to justify my actions. I tell myself that I have to kill him as he was my "enemy". I wonder if he enlists in a casual manner for the same reason as mine, that is he was unemployed and joined the army for money. How strange the war is! I am forced to kill another man, but if we had met somewhere else at a peaceful time, I might have bought him a drink or lent him some money.                      倘若我与他相遇        在一家老字号的酒馆里        我们就会坐下来        喝上几杯再分离。               可是身在枪林弹雨中        大家面对面,目光交逼、        同时都把扳机相扣，        要把对方当场击毙。               我要杀死他是因为一一        因为他是我的敌人。        就是这样，我的仇敌当然是他        这是明显不过的事，虽说                                                 倘若我与他相遇        在一家老字号的酒馆里        我们就会坐下来        喝上几杯再分离。               可是身在枪林弹雨中        大家面对面,目光交逼、        同时都把扳机相扣，        要把对方当场击毙。               我要杀死他是因为一一        因为他是我的敌人。        就是这样，我的仇敌当然是他        这是明显不过的事，虽说                            他杀死的人  他认为他的服现役，或许        同我一样，由于游手好闲，        丢了工作，卖光了家当，        没有其它什么道理可讲。 不错，战争古怪又离奇！        你把一个同类射倒在地，        若相遇在酒吧定会盛情相邀        说不定还借他半克朗钱币。托马斯 哈代null This poem seems sad and confused because the man in the singing the poem must not like killing people. He feels like he had to do it. He saw no joy in it. It was for self defense. He also thinks to himself on how the man he shot would have done the same thing. The man singing the poem is being realistic. These things have to happen and they all happen for a reason. nullThe poem The Man He Killed by Thomas Hardy was written during the Boer War. nullThe Boer War The Boer Wars was the name given to the South African Wars of 1880-1881 and 1899-1902, that were fought between the British and the descendants of the Dutch settlers (Boers) in Africa. After the first Boer War William Gladstone (British Prime Minister during Victorian Age) granted the Boers self-government in the Transvaal. The Second War Anglo-Boer War of 1899-1902 was one of the most significant events in the history of South Africa. It happened between United Kingdom and the two Boer Republics. null The Second War (1899–1902), by contrast to the former one, was a lengthy war—involving large numbers of troops from many British possessions. It started a result of cultural resentment between the Boers (Dutch settlers in south Africa) and immigrating British. It began as an uprising of British immigrants against the Boer government. The British Empire, seeing their subjects mistreated, decided to get involved. At first the war was fought with the honor typically associated with the British, but, in the end, it turned nasty(卑鄙). nullWhen he was young, Hardy was interested in wars, especially those from the ancient war stories. In his mind, war stood for glory of human race, and some sort of elegance, which can be explicitly told from his early poem Then and Now. During the second Boer War, the cruelness and horror of a war deeply impressed him. And somehow changed his view towards wars, for they not only destroyed families, but also warped people’s nature which might be kind-hearted in essence. Therefore he began to write poetry as an anti-war poet. His works expressed high negativity towards realistic world and towards life under the wars.nullThe Man He Killed written in 1902Had he and I but met     By some old ancient inn, We should have set us down to wet     Right many a nipperkin!     But ranged as infantry,     And staring face to face, I shot at him as he at me,     And killed him in his place. I shot him dead because—     Because he was my foe, Just so: my foe of course he was;     That's clear enough; although He thought he'd 'list, perhaps,     Off-hand like—just as I— Was out of work—had sold his traps—     No other reason why.     Yes; quaint and curious war is!     You shoot a fellow down You'd treat, if met where any bar is,     Or help to half a crown.    by Thomas Hardy nullThe poem deals with the issue of how war is able to change the relationship between people. War can sever and dissolve friendship and there seems to be a thin line between friend and foe. There seems to be a lack of respect for human life. It seems alright to kill because in War you are either friend or foe. It makes us wonder what happened to humanity? There is a lack of compassion over the death of a fellow human being. You kill when in other circumstances you could have been good drinking buddies, or even have shared to buy drinks. Also this poem sends out a message that during the war you have the license to kill. nullThe Target I shot him, and it had to be One of us "Twas him or me. 'Couln't be helped' and none can blame Me, for you would do the same My mother, she cant sleep for fear Of what might be a-happening here To me. Perhaps it might be best To die, and set her fears at rest For worst is worst, and worry's done. Perhaps he was the only son. . . Yet God keeps still, and does not say A word of guidance anyway. Well, if they get me, first I'll find That boy, and tell him all my mind, And see who felt the bullet worst, And ask his pardon,if I durst. All's a tangle. Here's my job. A man might rave, or shout, or sob; And God He takes takes no sort of heed. This is a bloody mess indeed. by Ivor Gurneynull