After the Hazara War
I lie alone beneath the Almond blossoms,
Where we two lay together in the spring,
And now, as then, the mountain snows are melting,
This year, as last, the water-courses sing.
That was another spring, and other flowers,
Hung, pink and fragile, on the leafless tree,
The land rejoiced in other running water,
And I rejoiced, because you were with me.
You, with your soft eyes, darkly lashed and shaded,
Your red lips like a living, laughing rose,
Your restless, amber limbs so lithe and slender
Now lost to me. Gone whither no man knows.
You lay beside me singing in the sunshine;
The rough, white fur, unloosened at the neck,
Showed the smooth skin, fair as the Almond blossoms,
On which the sun could find no flaw or fleck.
I lie alone, beneath the Almond flowers,
I hated them to touch you as they fell.
And now, who killed you? worse, Ah, worse, who loves you?
(My soul is burning as men burn in Hell.)
How I have sought you in the crowded cities!
I have been mad, they say, for many days.
I know not how I came here, to the valley,
What fate has led me, through what doubtful ways.
Somewhere I see my sword has done good service,
Some one I killed, who, smiling, used your name,
But in what country? Nay, I have forgotten,
All thought is shrivelled in my heart’s hot flame.
Where are you now, Delight, and where your beauty,
Your subtle curls, and laughing, changeful face?
Bound, bruised and naked (dear God, grant me patience),
And sold in Cabul in the market-place.
I asked of you of all men. Who could tell me?
Among so many captured, sold, or slain,
What fate was yours? (Ah, dear God, grant me patience,
My heart is burnt, is burnt, with fire and pain.)
Oh, lost Delight! my heart is almost breaking,
My sword is broken and my feet are sore,
The people look at me and say in passing,
“He will not leave the village any more.”
For as the evening falls, the fever rises,
With frantic thoughts careering through the brain,
Wild thoughts of you. (Ah, dear God, grant me patience,
My soul is hurt beyond all men call pain.)
I lie alone, beneath the Almond blossoms,
And see the white snow melting on the hills
Till Khorassan is gay with water-courses,
Glad with the tinkling sound of running rills,
And well I know that when the fragile petals
Fall softly, ere the first green leaves appear,
(Ah, for these last few days, God, grant me patience,)
Since Delight is not, I shall not be, here!
A few random poems:
- Владимир Высоцкий – Мистерия хиппи
- The Rose and the Cross poem – Aleister Crowley poems | Poetry Monster
- Passing Time by Maya Angelou
- Creativity in America and How Italians Can Learn From American Ingenuity
- Motel Pool by P. K. Page
- Владимир Маяковский – Новый враг
- Olney Hymn 60: Abuse Of The Gospel by William Cowper
- Macer : A Character poem – Alexander Pope poems | Poetry Monster
- The Rape of the Lock: Canto 1 poem – Alexander Pope poems | Poetry Monster
- The Last Judgment poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry
- The First Thrush by Mary Gilmore
- The Last Man by Thomas Campbell
- Live Inspired With Famous Inspiring Quotes
- Editorial Impressions by Siegfried Sassoon
- Олег Григорьев – Футбол
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
- Владимир Маяковский – Забудем солдатчину!.. (РОСТА №425)
- Владимир Маяковский – За женщиной
- Владимир Маяковский – За истекший декабрь добыча по Подмосковному… (РОСТА №896)
- Владимир Маяковский – За четыре года советской власти… (Главполитпросвет №248)
- Владимир Маяковский – За 10 месяцев 1920 года… (РОСТА №748)
- Владимир Маяковский – Юг завоевала победа… (РОСТА №568)
- Владимир Маяковский – Все на фронт добровольцами! Пока… (РОСТА)
- Владимир Маяковский – Все давайте советской республике, все получите от советской республики (РОСТА № 293)
- Владимир Маяковский – Все буржуи мчат на помощь Врангелю… (РОСТА №410)
- Владимир Маяковский – Врангеля мы добили… (РОСТА №621)
- Владимир Маяковский – Врангель (РОСТА №477)
- Владимир Маяковский – Врангель прет… (РОСТА №363)
- Владимир Маяковский – Врангель – фон… (РОСТА №472)
- Владимир Маяковский – Враги хлеба
- Владимир Маяковский – Вперед, комсомольцы
- Владимир Маяковский – Вот за то, что я пою… (Главполитпросвет №153)
- Владимир Маяковский – Вот советской России враги. С каждым боритесь, пока не погиб (РОСТА № 179)
- Владимир Маяковский – Вот по борьбе с голодом отчет (Главполитпросвет №320)
- Владимир Маяковский – Вот о помощи голодающим отчет (Главполитпросвет №367)
- Владимир Маяковский – Вот молочный налог… (Главполитпросвет №217)
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.