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:
- Hunting Song by William Somervile
- An Hymn To The Morning by Phillis Wheatley
- Lohengrin poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry
- Irony poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- The Realists by William Butler Yeats
- Sonet 4 by William Alexander
- Abuses and Awards poem – Andrei Voznesensky poems
- Владимир Высоцкий – Песенка про прыгуна в длину
- Robert Burns: The Bonie Moor-Hen:
- On Scaring some Water-Fowl in Lock Turit by Robert Burns
- Владимир Высоцкий – Песня Геращенко
- Island-Hearth by M. Ivana Trevisani Bach
- Владимир Луговской – Радость
- Inversnaid poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems
- Eavesdropping myself by Vladimir Marku
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
- This Moment, Yearning and Thoughtful. by Walt Whitman
- This Dust was Once the Man. by Walt Whitman
- This Day, O Soul. by Walt Whitman
- This Compost. by Walt Whitman
- Think of the Soul. by Walt Whitman
- Thick-Sprinkled Bunting. by Walt Whitman
- These, I, Singing in Spring. by Walt Whitman
- There was a Child went Forth. by Walt Whitman
- The Wound-Dresser by Walt Whitman
- That Shadow, my Likeness. by Walt Whitman
- That Music Always Round Me. by Walt Whitman
- Tests. by Walt Whitman
- Tears. by Walt Whitman
- Still, though the One I Sing. by Walt Whitman
- States! by Walt Whitman
- Starting from Paumanok. by Walt Whitman
- Spontaneous Me. by Walt Whitman
- Spirit whose Work is Done. by Walt Whitman
- Spirit That Form’d This Scene. by Walt Whitman
- Sparkles from The Wheel. by Walt Whitman
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.