The evening sky was as green as Jade,
As Emerald turf by Lotus lake,
Behind the Kafila far she strayed,
(The Pearls are lost if the Necklace break!)
A lingering freshness touched the air
From palm-trees, clustered around a Spring,
The great, grim Desert lay vast and bare,
But Youth is ever a careless thing.
The Raiders threw her upon the sand,
Men of the Wilderness know no laws,
They tore the Amethysts off her hand,
And rent the folds of her veiling gauze.
They struck the lips that they might have kissed,
Pitiless they to her pain and fear,
And wrenched the gold from her broken wrist,
No use to cry; there were none to hear.
Her scarlet mouth and her onyx eyes,
Her braided hair in its silken sheen,
Were surely meet for a Lover’s prize,
But Fate dissented, and stepped between.
Across the Zenith the vultures fly,
Cruel of beak and heavy of wing.
Thus it was written that she should die.
Inshallah! Death is a transient thing.
A few random poems:
- Moonrise by Sylvia Plath
- Enough by Sara Teasdale
- Field Sports by William Somervile
- Love of the heart by Timileyin Gabriel Olajuwon
- Before the Altar poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Алишер Навои – Кто на стезе любви един
- Владимир Высоцкий – И душа, и голова, кажись, болит
- Autumn Days by Will McKendree Carleton
- Charity thou art a lie, by Stephen Crane
- This Dog by Rabindranath Tagore
- Владимир Маяковский – Октябрьский марш
- Vacillation by William Butler Yeats
- Anguish of Fate by Pierre Reverdy
- A Woman Unconscious by Ted Hughes
- Boo to Buddha poem – Aleister Crowley poems | Poetry Monster
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
- Sonnet 133: Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 132: Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 131: Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 130: My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 12: When I do count the clock that tells the time by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 129: Th’ expense of spirit in a waste of shame by William Shakespeare
- The Eolian Harp by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
- Sonnet 32: If thou survive my well-contented day by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 31: Thy bosom is endearèd with all hearts by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 30: When to the sessions of sweet silent thought by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 2: When forty winters shall besiege thy brow by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 29: When in disgrace with Fortune and men’s eyes by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 28: How can I then return in happy plight by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 27: Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 26: Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 25: Let those who are in favour with their stars by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 24: Mine eye hath played the painter and hath stelled by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 23: As an unperfect actor on the stage by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 22: My glass shall not persuade me I am old by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 21: So is it not with me as with that muse by William Shakespeare
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.