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
- little Sara’s sleep by Raj Arumugam
- To One who Loved not Poetry by Sappho
- The Lament Of Yasmini The Dancing Girl
- Алексей Жемчужников – Знакомая картина
- Валерий Брюсов – Дождь
- Иван Барков – Выбор
- Battle Salamis
- Robert Burns: Stanzas On Naething: Extempore Epistle to Gavin Hamilton, Esq.
- English Poetry. Philip James Bailey. Festus – 44. Филип Джеймс Бэйли.
- Владимир Корнилов – Беатриче
- Argus poem – Alexander Pope poems | Poetry Monster
- Alone by Walter de la Mare
- Владимир Британишский – Сон: в детстве, весной, в лесу
- Attack by Siegfried Sassoon
- Purdah by Sylvia Plath
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).
