Emily Dickinson有一首關於希望的小詩，難得的淺顯易懂。網上搜了一下，沒看到滿意的翻譯。許是高手都不屑出手？:-) 隻好自己動手。
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
希望，它長著羽翼，
在我們的靈魂棲息，
它唱著無詞的曲兒，
永不停息。
風中，那歌聲最是甜蜜，
暴雨，會是怎樣的狂戾，
才能讓那給予眾人溫暖的小鳥，
不安顫栗。
那歌聲，曾飄蕩在最冰冷的陸地，
也曾在最僻遠的海上響起；
而即使在最困窘的境地，
它也不曾向我索取過，
哪怕一丁點兒麵包碎粒。
最後一句,本想翻成“哪怕一分一厘”，仔細一想，整首詩都把希望比作小鳥，那麽也許用crumb的原意會更恰當一些。但是，“麵包碎粒”讀上去又怪怪的，難辦。
這首詩很陽光。
還有一首印象深刻的有關希望的詩卻是相當的noir. 它節選自Pope的An Essay on Man，在Veronica Mars的Pilot隆重登場。
高二A.P English教室，老師點名讓正在睡覺的Veronica談An Essay on Man. Veronica非常流利的背誦了下麵這一節：
“Hope springs eternal in the human breast;
Man never is, but always to be blest:
The soul, uneasy and confined from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come.”
老師問，And what do you suppose Pope meant by that?
Veronica語出驚人: Life’s a ***** until you die.
（聽到這一句，我立刻愛上了她）
同學哄笑，老師做總結： Okay, thank you Ms Mars for that succinct and somewhat inappropriate response.
I think what Pope’s saying is that the thing that keeps us powering through life’s defeats is our faith in a better life yet to come.
正經的解釋好無趣哦。
