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:
- To A Feminist
- On Receiving Hayley’s Picture by William Cowper
- Drink of This Cup by Thomas Moore
- Sonnet 107: Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul by William Shakespeare
- The Silkworm by William Cowper
- Enigma by Thomas Moore
- Ольга Повещенко – Фотограф смотрит в объектив
- Вера Павлова – Завещание
- Song. Written On A Blank Page In Beaumont And Fletcher’s Works poem – John Keats poems
- Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck (Sonnet 14) by William Shakespeare
- On The Way To The Bottom by Shel Silverstein
- Владимир Британишский – Автопортрет Давида
- Their Frailty by Siegfried Sassoon
- Better Be by Raj Napal
- The Song of the Sons by Rudyard Kipling
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
- Олег Бундур – Интересный вопрос
- Олег Бундур – Играю в школьном спектакле
- Олег Бундур – Идем мы с дедом
- Олег Бундур – И до моря 15 шагов
- Олег Бундур – Гроза
- Олег Бундур – Глухарь
- Олег Бундур – Где живут мысли
- Олег Бундур – Февраль
- Олег Бундур – Если вы придёте в лес
- Олег Бундур – Если умываться лень
- Олег Бундур – Эпидемия
- Олег Бундур – Друзья
- Олег Бундур – Дрова
- Олег Бундур – Дождь
- Олег Бундур – Дома
- Олег Бундур – Добрый день
- Олег Бундур – Доброта
- Олег Бундур – Дневник
- Олег Бундур – Для чего бывает день
- Олег Бундур – Деревенская история
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.