The Stars await, serene and white,
The unarisen moon;
Oh, come and stay with me to-night,
Beside the salt Lagoon!
My hut is small, but as you lie,
You see the lighted shore,
And hear the rippling water sigh
Beneath the pile-raised floor.
No gift have I of jewels or flowers,
My room is poor and bare:
But all the silver sea is ours,
And all the scented air
Blown from the mainland, where there grows
Th’ “Intriguer of the Night,”
The flower that you have named Tube rose,
Sweet scented, slim, and white.
The flower that, when the air is still
And no land breezes blow,
From its pale petals can distil
A phosphorescent glow.
I see your ship at anchor ride;
Her “captive lightning” shine.
Before she takes to-morrow’s tide,
Let this one night be mine!
Though in the language of your land
My words are poor and few,
Oh, read my eyes, and understand,
I give my youth to you!
A few random poems:
- Какое это счастье – Материнство
- Sonnet 01 poem – John Milton poems
- French kiss to knickers poem – Andrew Vassell poems | Poems and Poetry
- The Ballad Of Lucy Jordan by Shel Silverstein
- 1991-I by Wendell Berry
- Sonnet 83: I never saw that you did painting need by William Shakespeare
- The Little Turtle by Vachel Lindsay
- Sonnet 100: Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget’st so long by William Shakespeare
- Федор Сологуб – Лиловато-розовый закат
- Robert Burns: Verses To Clarinda: Sent with a Pair of Wine-Glasses.
- Владимир Маяковский – Пилсудский
- Ок Мельникова – Гасите звёзды
- Robert Burns: Address Of Beelzebub: To the Right Honourable the Earl of Breadalbane, President of the Right Honourable and Honourable the Highland Society, which met on the 23rd of May last at the Shakespeare, Covent Garden, to concert ways and means to frustrate the designs of five hundred Highlanders, who, as the Society were informed by Mr. M’Kenzie of Applecross, were so audacious as to attempt an escape from their lawful lords and masters whose property they were, by emigrating from the lands of Mr. Macdonald of Glengary to the wilds of Canada, in search of that fantastic thing-Liberty.
- Sonet 41 by William Alexander
- Шекспир – У сердца с глазом тайный договор – Сонет 47
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
- Омар Хайям – Не горюй, что забудется имя твое
- Омар Хайям – Не для веселости я пью вино
- Омар Хайям – Не бойтесь дарить согревающих слов
- Омар Хайям – Мы влюбчивая голь, здесь нету мусульман
- Омар Хайям – Мы пешки, небо же игрок
- Омар Хайям – Мы источник веселья, и скорби рудник
- Омар Хайям – Мы больше в этот мир вовек не попадем
- Омар Хайям – Муки старят красавиц
- Омар Хайям – Моя любовь к тебе достигла совершенства
- Омар Хайям – Мой друг, о завтрашнем заботиться не след
- Омар Хайям – Много зла и коварства таится кругом
- Омар Хайям – Мне с похмелья лекарство одно принеси
- Омар Хайям – Мир любви обрести без терзаний нельзя
- Омар Хайям – Миг придёт, и смерть исторгнет жадно
- Омар Хайям – Меняем реки, страны, города
- Омар Хайям – Люди тлеют в могилах, ничем становясь
- Омар Хайям – Любя тебя, сношу я все упрёки
- Омар Хайям – Любовь роковая беда
- Омар Хайям – Люблю вино, ловлю веселья миг
- Омар Хайям – Лучше впасть в нищету, голодать или красть
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.