At Kotri, by the river, when the evening’s sun is low,
The waving palm trees quiver, the golden waters glow,
The shining ripples shiver, descending to the sea;
At Kotri, by the river, she used to wait for me.
So young, she was, and slender, so pale with wistful eyes
As luminous and tender as Kotri’s twilight skies.
Her face broke into flowers, red flowers at the mouth,
Her voice,–she sang for hours like bulbuls in the south.
We sat beside the water through burning summer days,
And many things I taught her of Life and all its ways
Of Love, man’s loveliest duty, of Passion’s reckless pain,
Of Youth, whose transient beauty comes once, but not again.
She lay and laughed and listened beside the water’s edge.
The glancing rirer glistened and glinted through the sedge.
Green parrots flew above her and, as the daylight died,
Her young arms drew her lover more closely to her side.
Oh days so warm and golden! oh nights so cool and still!
When Love would not be holden, and Pleasure had his will.
Days, when in after leisure, content to rest we lay,
Nights, when her lips’ soft pressure drained all my life away.
And while we sat together, beneath the Babul trees,
The fragrant, sultry weather cooled by the river breeze,
If passion faltered ever, and left the senses free,
We heard the tireless river decending to the sea.
I know not where she wandered, or went in after days,
Or if her youth she squandered in Love’s more doubtful ways.
Perhaps, beside the river, she died, still young and fair;
Perchance the grasses quiver above her slumber there.
At Kotri, by the river, maybe I too shall sleep
The sleep that lasts for ever, too deep for dreams; too deep.
Maybe among the shingle and sand of floods to be
Her dust and mine may mingle and float away to sea.
Ah Kotri, by the river, when evening’s sun is low,
Your faint reflections quiver, your golden ripples glow.
You knew, oh Kotri river, that love which could not last.
For me your palms still shiver with passions of the past.

A few random poems:
- Спиридон Дрожжин – Люблю я сельский мой приют
- Childhood by Rainer Maria Rilke
- Graydigger’s Home by William Stafford
- Ольга Берггольц – Потеряла я вечером слово
- Владимир Маяковский – Праздник урожая
- Яков Полонский – Одному из усталых
- Pan with Us by Robert Frost
- Валерий Брюсов – Германия (отрывки)
- Гавриил Державин – Поминки
- Black Cat by Rainer Maria Rilke
- A Florida Sunday. by Sidney Lanier
- To Delia by William Cowper
- Oh Mother poem – Amy Haritha Suseel poems | Poems and Poetry
- Иван Бунин – Алёнушка
- Нина Воронель – Папоротник II
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
- Dublinesque by Philip Larkin
- Dockery And Son by Philip Larkin
- Days by Philip Larkin
- Cut Grass by Philip Larkin
- Counting by Philip Larkin
- Continuing To Live by Philip Larkin
- Church Going by Philip Larkin
- Breadfruit by Philip Larkin
- Best Society by Philip Larkin
- Aubade by Philip Larkin
- At Grass by Philip Larkin
- Arrival by Philip Larkin
- Annus Mirabilis by Philip Larkin
- An Arundel Tomb by Philip Larkin
- Ambulances by Philip Larkin
- A Study Of Reading Habits by Philip Larkin
- You Can Have It by Philip Levine
- Wisteria by Philip Levine
- Where We Live Now by Philip Levine
- What Work Is by Philip Levine
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.