I arise and go down to the River, and currents that come from the sea,
Still fresh with the salt of the ocean, are lovely and precious to me,
The waters are silver and silent, except where the kingfisher dips,
Or the ripples wash off from my shoulder the reddening stain of thy lips.
Two things make my joy at this moment: thy gold-coloured beauty by night,
And the delicate charm of the River, all pale in the day-breaking light,
So cool are the waters’ caresses. Ah, which is the lovelier,–this?
Or the fire that it kindles at midnight, beneath the soft glow of thy kiss?
Ah, Love has a mighty dominion, he forges with passionate breath
The links which stretch out to the Future, with forces of life and of death,
But great is the charm of the River, so soft is the sigh of the reeds,
They give me, long sleepless from passion, the peace that my weariness needs.
I float on the breast of my River, and startle the birds on the edge,
To land on a newly found island, a boat that is caught in the sedge,
The rays of the sun are still level, not yet has the heat of the day
Deflowered the mists of the morning, that linger in delicate grey.
What land was his dwelling whose fancy first gave unto Paradise birth?
He never had swum in my River, or else he had fixed it on earth!
Oh, grace of the palm-tree reflections, Oh, sense of the wind from the sea!
Oh, divine and serene exultation of one who is lonely and free!
Ah, delicate breezes of daybreak, so scentless, refreshing and free!
And yet–had my midnight been lonely you had been less lovely to me.
This coolness comes laden with solace, because I am hot from the fire,
As often devotion to virtue arises from sated desire.
_Gautama came forth from his Palace; he felt the night wind on his face,_
_He loathed, as he left, the embraces, the softness and scent of the place,_
_But, ah, if his night had been loveless, with no one to solace his need,_
_He never had written that sermon which men so devotedly read._
Ah, River, thy gentle persuasion! I doubt if I seek any more
The beauty that hurts me and holds me beneath the low roof on the shore.
I loved thee, ay, loved–for a season, but thou, was it love or desire,
The glow of the Sun in his glory, or only the heat of a fire?
I think not that thou wilt regret me, for thou art too joyous and fair,
So many are keen to caress thee, thy passionate midnights to share.
Thou wilt not have time to remember, before a new love-knot is tied,
The stranger who loved thee and left thee, who drifted away on the tide.
Two things I have found that are lovely, though most things are sullen and grey;
One: Peace–but what mortal has found him; and Passion–but when would he stay?
So I shall return to my River, and floating at ease on its breast,
Shall find, what Love never has given–a sense of most infinite rest.
When the years have gone by and departed, what thought shall I keep of this land?
A curl of thy waist-reaching-tresses? a flower received from thy hand?
Nay, if I can fathom the future, I fancy my relic will be
Some shell, my beloved one, the River, has stol’n from the store of the sea.
A few random poems:
- English Poetry. William Barnes. Second Collection. The Heäre. Уильям Барнс.
- Владимир Маяковский – Вот за то, что я пою… (Главполитпросвет №153)
- In The Month When Sings The Cuckoo poem – Alfred Austin
- The Grandmother poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- As With Recitation And The Loss Of A Kuhi
- Юнна Мориц – Ёжик резиновый
- Today by Satish Verma
- Олег Чупров – Путь к Благодати не напрасен
- A Dream Of England poem – Alfred Austin
- So Long. by Walt Whitman
- Conscious by Wilfred Owen
- Cromwell’s Return poem – Andrew Marvell poems
- The Sun Underfoot Among The Sundews poem – Amy Clampitt poems | Poems and Poetry
- Sonnet 83: I never saw that you did painting need by William Shakespeare
- Владимир Маяковский – Даешь автомобиль
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
- Prisoner by Rabindranath Tagore
- Playthings by Rabindranath Tagore
- Patience by Rabindranath Tagore
- Passing Breeze by Rabindranath Tagore
- Parting Words by Rabindranath Tagore
- Paper Boats by Rabindranath Tagore
- Only Thee by Rabindranath Tagore
- On the Seashore by Rabindranath Tagore
- Old And New by Rabindranath Tagore
- Ocean of Forms by Rabindranath Tagore
- O Fool by Rabindranath Tagore
- My Song by Rabindranath Tagore
- My Friend by Rabindranath Tagore
- Moment’s Indulgence by Rabindranath Tagore
- Maya by Rabindranath Tagore
- Lover’s Gifts XXXIX: There Is a Looker-On by Rabindranath Tagore
- Lover’s Gifts XXVIII: I Dreamt by Rabindranath Tagore
- Lover’s Gifts XXII: I Shall Gladly Suffer by Rabindranath Tagore
- Lover’s Gifts XVIII: Your Days by Rabindranath Tagore
- Lover’s Gifts XVI: She Dwelt Here by the Pool by Rabindranath Tagore
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.