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:
- In An Underground Dressing Station by Siegfried Sassoon
- Morning Midday And Evening Sacrifice poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems
- Gigolo by Sylvia Plath
- The Dreadful Has Already Happened by Mark Strand
- Mauve Mittens by Vaishnavi Prakash
- Robert Burns: Man Was Made To Mourn: A Dirge:
- British Freedom by William Wordsworth
- Meg Merrilies poem – John Keats poems
- Юлия Друнина – Веет чем-то родным и древним
- Brooklyn Narcissus by Paul Blackburn
- The Gardener XXVII: Trust Love by Rabindranath Tagore
- First Light
- The Keys of Morning by Walter de la Mare
- Better Days by Stevens Cadet
- 1954 by Sharon Olds
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
- Михаил Кузмин – Живется нам не плохо
- Михаил Кузмин – Зеленая птичка
- Михаил Кузмин – Запел петух, таинственный предвестник
- Михаил Кузмин – Заключение (Водительница Одигитрия)
- Михаил Кузмин – Зачем в тот вечер роковой
- Михаил Кузмин – Зачем копье Архистратига
- Михаил Кузмин – Я знаю вас не понаслышке
- Михаил Кузмин – Выздоравливающей
- Михаил Кузмин – Вы молчаливо-нежное дитя
- Михаил Кузмин – Вы белое бургундское вино
- Михаил Кузмин – Второй свидетель
- Михаил Кузмин – Все дни у Бога хороши
- Михаил Кузмин – Врезанные в песок заливы
- Михаил Кузмин – Врач мудрый нам открыл секрет природы
- Михаил Кузмин – Возвращение
- Михаил Кузмин – Возможно ль: скоро четверть века
- Михаил Кузмин – Вот после ржавых львов и рева
- Михаил Кузмин – В саду
- Михаил Кузмин – В раскосый блеск зеркал забросив сети
- Михаил Кузмин – В ранний утра час покидал Милет я
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.