There were Roses in the hedges, and Sunshine in the sky,
Red Lilies in the sedges, where the water rippled by,
A thousand Bulbuls singing, oh, how jubilant they were,
And a thousand flowers flinging their sweetness on the air.
But you, who sat beside me, had a shadow in your eyes,
Their sadness seemed to chide me, when I gave you scant replies;
You asked “Did I remember?” and “When had I ceased to care?”
In vain you fanned the ember, for the love flame was not there.
“And so, since you are tired of me, you ask me to forget,
What is the use of caring, now that you no longer care?
When Love is dead his Memory can only bring regret,
But how can I forget you with the flowers in your hair?”
What use the scented Roses, or the azure of the sky?
They are sweet when Love reposes, but then he had to die.
What could I do in leaving you, but ask you to forget,–
I suffered, too, in grieving you; I all but loved you yet.
But half love is a treason, that no lover can forgive,
I had loved you for a season, I had no more to give.
You saw my passion faltered, for I could but let you see,
And it was not I that altered, but Fate that altered me.
And so, since I am tired of love, I ask you to forget,
What is the use you caring, now that I no longer care?
When Love is dead, his Memory can only bring regret;
Forget me, oh, forget me, and my flower-scented hair!

A few random poems:
- Confession (to Alina Osipova, 1826) poem – Alexander Pushkin
- May Magnificat poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems
- Let’s pray the divine by Nikunj Sharma
- Greater Love by Wilfred Owen
- The Moment I knew my Life had Changed by Maria Mazziotti Gillan
- Владимир Маяковский – Вот что для голодающих прислали из-за границы, ассоциации и частные лица (Главполитпросвет №363)
- Алексей Толстой – В альбом (Стрелок, на той поляне)
- Такахама Кёси – Кончик трости моей
- Celebrate Spring Today poem with a translation – Amir Khusro poems | Poems and Poetry
- I stood musing in a black world by Stephen Crane
- Channels by Shel Silverstein
- Вера Павлова – Твоя хладность
- Зинаида Александрова – Мы оделись раньше всех
- C’est la nuit aveugle by Martine Morillon-Carreau
- The Song Of The Old Mother by William Butler Yeats
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
- Et Le Marbre Creuse… by Martine Morillon-Carreau
- Eating Poetry by Mark Strand
- Does Our Spirit Fly Away by Mary Etta Metcalf
- Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep by Mary Frye
- Disingenuousness by Mark R Slaughter
- Days Are Gone by Mary Etta Metcalf
- Dans les filets de midi by Martine Morillon-Carreau
- Courtship by Mark Strand
- Coming To This by Mark Strand
- Coming to Terms by Mary Etta Metcalf
- Collateral Damage by Martina Reisz Newberry
- Collage by Martine Morillon-Carreau
- Chronicles by Mark Olynyk
- Ce N’est Jamais Le Même Jardin by Martine Morillon-Carreau
- C’est la nuit aveugle by Martine Morillon-Carreau
- Books by Mark Olynyk
- Awaken by Mark Miller
- Avec seulement du noir by Martine Morillon-Carreau
- Attente by Martine Morillon-Carreau
- At This Very Moment by Mary TallMountain
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.