Oh, Life, I have taken you for my Lover,
I rent your veils and I found you fair ;
If a fault or failing my eyes discover,
I will not see it; it is not there !
I know, if I knew, I should hold you dearer,
Should understand, if I understood,
For I worship more, as you draw me nearer,
Your reckless Evil, your perfect Good.
In the Jungle gloom, we have watched and waited,
For stealthy Panthers, that prowl by night,
At the end of some weary march, belated,
We heard strange tales by the camp-fire light.
We have lain on the starlit sands, untented,
While low-hung planets rose white and fair,
And in moonlit gardens, silver and scented,
Oh, Life, my Lover, how sweet you were !
Forbidden and barbarous rites were shown us,
In rock-hewn Temples and jungle caves,
And the smoke-wreathed home of the dead has known us,
The burning-ghat by the Ganges waves
Ah, the long, lone ride through the starlit hours,
The long, lone watch on the starlit sea,
And the flame and flush of the morning flowers
When Life, my Lover, was kind to me !
Betimes we were out on the Sea, together;
The vessel raced down the great green slope
Of mountainous waves, in desperate weather ;
The hearts of men were adrift from hope.
As over the deck, in exultant fashion,
The violent water crashed and fell,
I knew, through the joy of your reckless passion,
Agonised fear of the last farewell.
But I follow you always, unresisting,
To lowest depth ; to uttermost brink,
From a thirst like mine there is no desisting
Though given poison for wine to drink.
You may do your utmost, you will not shake me,
Your faith may falter ; my faith is true.
Oh, Life, you may shatter and rend and break me,
All Pain is Pleasure, that springs from you !
In the height and heat of your wildest passion,
You had your uttermost will of me,
And when have I asked for the least compassion ?
A lover loved is a lover free !
Though, with never a word of farewell spoken
In lonely wilds of some Desert place,
You have flung me from you, adrift and broken,
To wait the child of your last embrace.
And never my faith nor my fervour faltered,
Until you turned to my lips again,
When, my eager longing for you unaltered
Your first kiss cancelled my months of pain.
Ah, Life, you may torture my soul, betray me,
The right is yours, as Lover and Lord.
And when in the climax of all, you slay me,
My lips in dying will seek your sword.
A few random poems:
- The First Part: Sonnet 3 – Ye who so curiously do paint your thoughts, by William Drummond
- Someday’s Here by Shel Silverstein
- The Autopsy by Russell Edson
- The Last Tournament poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- Once I Pass’d Through a Populous City. by Walt Whitman
- Are You Content? by William Butler Yeats
- On Wenlock Edge The Wood’s In Trouble poem – A. E. Housman
- Now, What is Poetry? poem – Yang Wan-Li poems | Poetry Monster
- The Swans poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- A man said to the universe: by Stephen Crane
- Lover’s Gifts XIX: It Is Written in the Book by Rabindranath Tagore
- The Homeless Man by Mary TallMountain
- Song by Robert Creeley
- Николай Некрасов – В тоске по юности моей
- The Bombardment poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
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
- Sweeney among the Nightingales by T. S. Eliot
- Rhapsody on a Windy Night by T. S. Eliot
- Preludes by T. S. Eliot
- Portrait of a Lady by T. S. Eliot
- Old Deuteronomy by T. S. Eliot
- Mungojerrie And Rumpelteazer by T. S. Eliot
- Mr. Mistoffelees by T. S. Eliot
- Mr. Eliot’s Sunday Morning Service by T. S. Eliot
- Mr. Apollinax by T. S. Eliot
- Morning at the Window by T. S. Eliot
- Mr. Apollinax by T. S. Eliot
- Morning at the Window by T. S. Eliot
- Lune de Miel by T. S. Eliot
- Le Directeur by T. S. Eliot
- La Figlia che Piange by T. S. Eliot
- Journey Of The Magi by T. S. Eliot
- Hysteria by T. S. Eliot
- Gus: The Theatre Cat by T. S. Eliot
- Growltiger’s Last Stand by T. S. Eliot
- Gerontion by T. S. Eliot
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.