He lurks among the reeds, beside the marsh,
Red oleanders twisted in His hair,
His eyes are haggard and His lips are harsh,
Upon His breast the bones show gaunt and bare.
The green and stagnant waters lick His feet,
And from their filmy, iridescent scum
Clouds of mosquitoes, gauzy in the heat,
Rise with His gifts: Death and Delirium.
His messengers: They bear the deadly taint
On spangled wings aloft and far away,
Making thin music, strident and yet faint,
From golden eve to silver break of day.
The baffled sleeper hears th’ incessant whine
Through his tormented dreams, and finds no rest
The thirsty insects use his blood for wine,
Probe his blue veins and pasture on his breast.
While far away He in the marshes lies,
Staining the stagnant water with His breath,
An endless hunger burning in His eyes,
A famine unassuaged, whose food is Death.
He hides among the ghostly mists that float
Over the water, weird and white and chill,
And peasants, passing in their laden boat,
Shiver and feel a sense of coming ill.
A thousand burn and die; He takes no heed,
Their bones, unburied, strewn upon the plain,
Only increase the frenzy of His greed
To add more victims to th’ already slain.
He loves the haggard frame, the shattered mind,
Gloats with delight upon the glazing eye,
Yet, in one thing, His cruelty is kind,
He sends them lovely dreams before they die;
Dreams that bestow on them their heart’s desire,
Visions that find them mad, and leave them blest,
To sink, forgetful of the fever’s fire,
Softly, as in a lover’s arms, to rest.
A few random poems:
- Владимир Бенедиктов – Раздумье
- Федор Сологуб – Во внутреннем дворе отеля
- Олег Григорьев – К себе домой из дальних стран
- Memory
- Анатолий Жигулин – Дальние предки
- A Forgetful Number by Vasko Popa
- Юрий Верховский – Ах, душечка моя, как нынче мне светло
- Freedom And Love by Thomas Campbell
- On Being Asked For A War Poem by William Butler Yeats
- Sonnet LVIII by William Shakespeare
- Ольга Берггольц – Заметь, заметь, Как легчает сердце
- Show me by Rixa White
- Владимир Маяковский – Привет, КИМ
- Владимир Высоцкий – Говорят, лезу прямо под нож
- The Perfect Wave by Shel Silverstein
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
- To All and Everything by Vladimir Mayakovsky
- Conversation with Comrade Lenin by Vladimir Mayakovsky
- Back Home by Vladimir Mayakovsky
- Past One O’Clock … by Vladimir Mayakovsky
- Our March by Vladimir Mayakovsky
- My Soviet Passport by Vladimir Mayakovsky
- Call To Account! by Vladimir Mayakovsky
- Attitude To A Miss by Vladimir Mayakovsky
- At the Top of My voice by Vladimir Mayakovsky
- What a beautiful world by Vladimir Marku
- Time by Vladimir Marku
- The Room The Light and Golden Dust by Vishnu J Mohan
- The Ghosts of past, the Angels of future by Vyshnav Shabu Nair
- Signals by Walid Saba
- September Rain by Vishü Rita Krocha
- Rain falling by Vladimir Marku
- Moonlight by Vita Sackville-West
- Night dyes its hair by Vladimir Marku
- Monday by Vishü Rita Krocha
- Love’s Paradox by Vishü Rita Krocha
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.