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:
- Ars Poetica
- Syrinx poem – Amy Clampitt poems | Poems and Poetry
- Олег Григорьев – Дети кидали друг в друга поленья
- And Doth Not a Meeting Like This by Thomas Moore
- The Journey by Rabindranath Tagore
- Федор Сологуб – В камине пылания много
- The Old Lowe House Staten Island
- Robert Burns: Farewell Song To The Banks Of Ayr: “I composed this song as I conveyed my chest so far on my road to Greenock, where I was to embark in a few days for Jamaica. I meant it as my farewell dirge to my native land.”-R. B.
- Владимир Британишский – Философы! Не верьте островам
- Юлиан Анисимов – Весенний дождь
- Sonnet. On The Sea poem – John Keats poems
- Psalm 02 poem – John Milton poems
- Home They Brought Her Warrior Dead poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- Николай Карамзин – К милости
- Notebook Of A Return To The Native Land
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
- Наум Коржавин – Неужели птицы пели
- Наум Коржавин – Нет! Так я просто не уйду во мглу
- Наум Коржавин – Нелепые ваши затеи
- Наум Коржавин – Не верь, что ты поэта шире
- Наум Коржавин – Наверно, я не так на свете жил
- Наум Коржавин – На побывке
- Наум Коржавин – На друга-поэта
- Наум Коржавин – Мой ритм заглох
- Наум Коржавин – Мне без тебя так трудно жить
- Наум Коржавин – Меня, как видно, Бог не звал
- Наум Коржавин – Люди пашут каждый раз опять
- Наум Коржавин – Ленинград
- Наум Коржавин – Легкость
- Наум Коржавин – Комиссары
- Наум Коржавин – Кое-кому
- Наум Коржавин – Как ты мне изменяла
- Наум Коржавин – К моему двадцатипятилетию
- Наум Коржавин – Иван Калита
- Наум Коржавин – Иль впрямь я разлюбил свою страну?
- Наум Коржавин – Грустная самопародия
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.