O you wind rose of torment!
Torn by primeval storms
In ever changing directions of the tempests;
Yet your south is loneliness,
Where you stand is the navel of pain.
Your eyes are sunk deep into your skull
Like cave-dwelling doves in the night
Brought out blind by the huntsman,
Your voice is silenced
From asking too many whys,
To the worms and the fishes your voice has gone.
Job, you have wept through all the watches of the night
But some day the star sign of your blood will
Outshine all the rising suns.
End of the poem
15 random poems
- Shit List; Or, Omnium-gatherum Of Diversity Into Unity poem – A. R. Ammons poems | Poetry Monster
- Home Sick
- The Poor House by Sara Teasdale
- Владимир Костров – Поэтессе
- The Gardener XXXIV: Do Not Go, My Love by Rabindranath Tagore
- To Spirituality by Nithin Purple
- София Парнок – Белой ночью
- Book Ninth [Residence in France] by William Wordsworth
- The River Of Bees by W. S. Merwin
- Loves Blindness
- Endymion: Book II poem – John Keats poems
- Владимир Британишский – История, поколобродив тут
- Easter Communion poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems
- For The Anniversary Of John Keats’ Death by Sara Teasdale
- Иван Варавва – На окраине села
Some external links:
Duckduckgo.com – the alternative in the US
Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe
Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).
