Death and Famine on every side
And never a sign of rain,
The bones of those who have starved and died
Unburied upon the plain.
What care have I that the bones bleach white?
To-morrow they may be mine,
But I shall sleep in your arms to-night
And drink your lips like wine!
Cholera, Riot, and Sudden Death,
And the brave red blood set free,
The glazing eye and the failing breath,–
But what are these things to me?
Your breath is quick and your eyes are bright
And your blood is red like wine,
And I shall sleep in your arms to-night
And hold your lips with mine!
I hear the sound of a thousand tears,
Like softly pattering rain,
I see the fever, folly, and fears
Fulfilling man’s tale of pain.
But for the moment your star is bright,
I revel beneath its shine,
For I shall sleep in your arms to-night
And feel your lips on mine!
And you need not deem me over cold,
That I do not stop to think
For all the pleasure this Life may hold
Is on the Precipice brink.
Thought could but lessen my soul’s delight,
And to-day she may not pine.
For I shall lie in your arms to-night
And close your lips with mine!
I trust what sorrow the Fates may send
I may carry quietly through,
And pray for grace when I reach the end,
To die as a man should do.
To-day, at least, must be clear and bright,
Without a sorrowful sign,
Because I sleep in your arms to-night
And feel your lips on mine!
So on I work, in the blazing sun,
To bury what dead we may,
But glad, oh, glad, when the day is done
And the night falls round us grey.
Would those we covered away from sight
Had a rest as sweet as mine!
For I shall sleep in your arms to-night
And drink your lips like wine!

A few random poems:
- The Burial Of Moliere poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Hora Cero by Manolo Arriola
- Юлия Друнина – Сочетание
- lost_love_is_never_lost.html
- On Passing The New Menin Gate by Siegfried Sassoon
- The Song poem – Andrei Voznesensky poems
- Song of the Red War-Boat by Rudyard Kipling
- The Illusion of Love by Sarojini Naidu
- Robert Burns: The Bonie Lad That’s Far Awa:
- Константин Бальмонт – На вершине
- Sonnet 72: O, lest the world should task you to recite by William Shakespeare
- Владимир Луговской – Пепел
- An Autumn Picture poem – Alfred Austin
- Remembrance Of by William Wordsworth
- Владимир Маяковский – Тексты “окон”, переработанные для сборника “Грозный смех”
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
- Scoring Highly on the Psychopathy Scale by P.J.Reed
- Primrose by Patrick Kavanagh
- Pollination by Pamela L. Laskin
- This Evening Also by Paul Celan
- Landscape by Paul Celan
- Peace by Patrick Kavanagh
- Planet Earth by P. K. Page
- O Little Root of a Dream by Paul Celan
- Night Ray by Paul Celan
- Motel Pool by P. K. Page
- Miss Brown by Samuel Stephen Wakdok
- Miracles by Paul Hostovsky
- Memory Of My Father by Patrick Kavanagh
- Le monstre by Patryck Froissart
- Landscape by Paul Celan
- Jokes on You by Rohan Dunbar
- Pamela Griffiths – Pamela Griffiths
- In Spite Of by Patricia Farley
- In Memory Of My Mother by Patrick Kavanagh
- I Want Those Words Today by Pandian Chelliah
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
Violet Nicolson ( 1865 – 1904); otherwise known as Adela Florence Nicolson (née Cory), was an English poetess who wrote under the pseudonym of Laurence Hope, however she became known as Violet Nicolson. In the early 1900s, she became a best-selling author. She committed suicide and is buried in Madras, now Chennai, India.