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
- Владимир Маяковский – Два Берлина
- At The Close Of The Canvass poem – Ambrose Bierce poems | Poems and Poetry
- Омар Хайям – Чем пустыми мечтами себя донимать
- Sonnet CXIV by William Shakespeare
- The Quality of Mercy by William Shakespeare
- Cotton and Corn by Thomas Moore
- The Caucas poem – Alexander Pushkin
- Николай Гумилев – Крыса
- In Answer to a Request poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Colors by Shel Silverstein
- A Week Later by Sharon Olds
- Early Morning by Victoria Bukofske
- The Nearness That Is All by Samuel Hazo
- I Heard You, Solemn-sweet Pipes of the Organ. by Walt Whitman
- Why
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).
