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:
- On A Seven Day Diary
- Doubt by Sara Teasdale
- At Daybreak by Siegfried Sassoon
- Аnything can happen
- Владимир Набоков – Памяти друга
- “Avaunt All Specious Pliancy Of Mind” by William Wordsworth
- Омар Хайям – Есть много вер, и все несхожи
- Robert Burns: Does Haughty Gaul Invasion Threat?:
- Алишер Навои – Кипарис подобен розе увлажненной
- the_world.html
- They Would Love To See Me Dead by Mahmoud Darwish
- Stand-To: Good Friday Morning by Siegfried Sassoon
- Finisterre by Sylvia Plath
- Николай Некрасов – Вчера, сегодня
- Book Thirteenth [Imagination And Taste, How Impaired And Restored Concluded] by William Wordsworth
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
- Иннокентий Анненский – Еврипид. Ифигения в Авлиде («Ифигения-жертва») (перевод)
- Иннокентий Анненский – Еврипид. Геракл (перевод)
- Илья Зданевич – Пабло Пикассо
- Илья Зданевич – Ослиный Бох
- Илья Зданевич – Опять на жизненную скуку
- Илья Зданевич – Галоша
- Илья Зданевич – Экспромт
- Илья Эренбург – Жилье в горах, как всякое жилье
- Илья Эренбург – Я знаю, будет золотой и долгий
- Илья Эренбург – Я так любил тебя, до грубых шуток
- Илья Эренбург – Я слышу всё, и горестные шепоты
- Илья Эренбург – Я помню, давно уже я уловил
- Илья Эренбург – Я не трубач, труба
- Илья Эренбург – Я бы мог прожить совсем иначе
- Илья Эренбург – Взвился рыжий, ближе
- Илья Эренбург – Вы приняли меня в изысканной гостиной
- Илья Эренбург – Ода
- Илья Эренбург – О Москве
- Илья Эренбург – Легкий сон
- Илья Эренбург – Круг
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.