A poem by Aeschylus (c. 525 – c. 456 Before Christ )
The night was passing, and the Grecian host
By no means sought to issue forth unseen.
But when indeed the day with her white steeds
Held all the earth, resplendent to behold,
First from the Greeks the loud-resounding din
Of song triumphant came; and shrill at once
Echo responded from the island rock.
Then upon all barbarians terror fell,
Thus disappointed; for not as for flight
The Hellenes sang the holy pæan then,
But setting forth to battle valiantly.
The bugle with its note inflamed them all;
And straightway with the dip of plashing oars
They smote the deep sea water at command,
And quickly all were plainly to be seen.
Their right wing first in orderly array
Led on, and second all the armament
Followed them forth; and meanwhile there was heard
A mighty shout: “Come, O ye sons of Greeks,
Make free your country, make your children free,
Your wives, and fanes of your ancestral gods,
And your sires’ tombs! For all we now contend!”
And from our side the rush of Persian speech
Replied. No longer might the crisis wait.
At once ship smote on ship with brazen beak;
A vessel of the Greeks began the attack,
Crushing the stem of a Phoenician ship.
Each on a different vessel turned its prow.
At first the current of the Persian host
Withstood; but when within the strait the throng
Of ships was gathered, and they could not aid
Each other, but by their own brazen bows
Were struck, they shattered all our naval host.
The Grecian vessels not unskillfully
Were smiting round about; the hulls of ships
Were overset; the sea was hid from sight,
Covered with wreckage and the death of men;
The reefs and headlands were with corpses filled,
And in disordered flight each ship was rowed,
As many as were of the Persian host.
But they, like tunnies or some shoal of fish,
With broken oars and fragments of the wrecks
Struck us and clove us; and at once a cry
Of lamentation filled the briny sea,
Till the black darkness’ eye did rescue us.
The number of our griefs, not though ten days
I talked together, could I fully tell;
But this know well, that never in one day
Perished so great a multitude of men.
A few random poems:
- The Land of Counterpane by Robert Louis Stevenson
- Anterotics by William Ernest Henley
- Ольга Седакова – Легенда шестая
- In Memory of W. B. Yeats by W. H. Auden
- Doomsday by Sylvia Plath
- Владимир Британишский – Край Земли
- Francesca poem – Ezra Pound poems
- An Apology For Not Showing Her What I Had Wrote by William Cowper
- Алексей Толстой – С тех пор как я один
- Иннокентий Анненский – Еврипид. Орест (перевод)
- In the Night poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry
- Robert Burns: Here’s To Thy Health:
- Владимир Маяковский – Плакаты, 1928
- Василий Лебедев-Кумач – Солнце садится
- Василий Жуковский – К Перовскому (Счастливец, ею ты любим)
External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- Омар Хайям – Думал я, что верны обещанья твои
- Омар Хайям – Друзей поменьше
- Омар Хайям – Друг, умей от пустой суеты отличать
- Омар Хайям – Друг, два понятия должен бы ты затвердить
- Омар Хайям – Долго ль спину придется мне гнуть или нет
- Омар Хайям – Долго ль будешь скорбеть и печалиться, друг
- Омар Хайям – До того, как мы чашу судьбы изопьем
- Омар Хайям – До коих пор униженный позор терпеть
- Омар Хайям – Для тех, кто умирает
- Омар Хайям – День прошел, и о нем позабудь поскорей
- Омар Хайям – День каждый услаждай вином
- Омар Хайям – Даже с самой прекрасной из милых подруг
- Омар Хайям – Дай мне влаги хмельной, укрепляющей дух
- Омар Хайям – Дай коснуться, любимая, прядей густых
- Омар Хайям – Да пребудет вино неразлучно с тобой
- Омар Хайям – Цветам и запахам владеть тобой доколе
- Омар Хайям – Что жизнь
- Омар Хайям – Что я дружу с вином, не отрицаю, нет
- Омар Хайям – Что плоть твоя, Хайям?
- Омар Хайям – Что меня ожидает, неведомо мне
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)
Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.
Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees
Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.
Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.
Parallel Translations of Poetry
The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works
Aeschylus (525 Before Christ to 456 B.C.) was an ancient Greek author of Greek tragedy, and is often described as the father of tragedy. Academics’ knowledge of the genre begins with his work, and understanding of earlier Greek tragedy is largely based on inferences made from reading his surviving plays. According to Aristotle, he expanded the number of characters in the theatre and allowed conflict among them.