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:
- Robert Burns: Halloween: The following poem will, by many readers, be well enough understood; but for the sake of those who are unacquainted with the manners and traditions of the country where the scene is cast, notes are added to give some account of the principal charms and spells of that night, so big with prophecy to the peasantry in the west of Scotland. The passion of prying into futurity makes a striking part of the history of human nature in its rude state, in all ages and nations; and it may be some entertainment to a philosophic mind, if any such honour the author with a perusal, to see the remains of it among the more unenlightened in our own.-R.B.
- The Future Promise Letter by Stevens Cadet
- Idylls of the King: The Marriage of Geraint poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- lord_god_have_mercy_on_me.html
- On Pallas Bathing, From A Hymn Of Callimachus by William Cowper
- The Quest XII (Vocation) by W H Auden
- The Natural History of Elephants by Milton Acorn
- To Arms! poem – Alfred Austin
- The Silkworm by William Cowper
- Eternity by William Blake
- Lunch by Ross D Tyler
- Survivors by Siegfried Sassoon
- Sonnet 86: Was it the proud full sail of his great verse by William Shakespeare
- Владимир Маяковский – Власть канцелярии – вот слова “бюрократия” перевод… (РОСТА №655)
- of spiritual matters by Raj Arumugam
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
- Константин Бальмонт – Море – вечное стремленье, горы – царственный покой
- Константин Бальмонт – Молитва последняя
- Константин Бальмонт – Молитва
- Константин Бальмонт – Если грустно тебе
- Константин Бальмонт – Эльзи
- Константин Бальмонт – Электрон
- Константин Бальмонт – Далеким близким
- Константин Бальмонт – Да, я люблю одну тебя
- Константин Бальмонт – Цветок (Я цветок, и счастье аромата)
- Константин Бальмонт – Цветок
- Константин Бальмонт – Чудовище с клеймом
- Константин Бальмонт – Что достойно, что бесчестно
- Константин Бальмонт – Четыре источника
- Константин Бальмонт – Чет и нечет
- Константин Бальмонт – Черный и белый
- Константин Бальмонт – Черные вороны
- Кондратий Рылеев – Песня (Кто сколько ни хлопочет)
- Кондратий Рылеев – Переводчику «Андромахи»
- Кондратий Рылеев – Палей
- Кондратий Рылеев – Оставь меня, Я здесь молю
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.