A poem by Alistar Crowley (1875-1947)
I to the open road,
You to the hunchbacked street –
Which of us two
Shall the earlier rue
That day we chanced to meet?
I with a heart that’s sound,
You with sick fancies of pain –
Which of us two
Would the earlier rue
If we chanced to meet again?
I jingle homely lore,
While you rhyme is with kiss –
Which of us two
Will the earlier rue
The love of the Hoylake Miss?
Not I the first to go,
Nor I the first to deceive –
Which of us two
Shall the the earliest rue
Our garden of make-believe?
You were a Chinese god,
I an offering fair,
As we entered the
Garden of Allah,
To sing our holy prayer.
Entered with hearts bowed low,
Yet I heard a voice that cried:
For he is the god of the
Sacrifice,
You are the crucified.
It was all make-believe,
A foolish game of play,
Our garden of Allah
A drawing-room,
Our Chinese god of clay.
Strings of bruises for pearls,
Tears for forget-me-nots,
And a deadly pain
Of the sickening shame
Watching the fading spots.
As quickly they faded,
The heart of me faded as well,
Until nothing is left
Of my garden,
But a soul sunk to hell.
Hail!
Poet prend ton lute -Je disparaire,
No more together we’ll enter the
Enchanted garden of make-believe,
Nor my sad soul listen while thine deceive.
No more you’ll be the God of Sacrifice,
Nor I the crucified.
Ah, Garden of Allah -how bitter sweet
Thy fruit. Why breakest thou the heart?
Why spoilest thou the soul with notes
From thy golden lute?
Lo! our garden a common room
Our Chinese god burnt clay, and
The singing of verses a funeral hymn
That awakes with awakening day.
‘Twas all such a meaningless play,
Poet prend ton lute -Je disparaitre.
Hail!
Poet, take my hand -we’ll walk
Still a little way.
I’ll not desert thee at the close of day,
I, too, must pray.
A beggar asking alms of passers-by,
Does not refuse a drink to one who’s dry
That once by him did lie.
Poet, come close -before I leave for aye
Take thou my hand, we’ll walk still
A little way.
One garment covered both to keep us warm,
What harmed the one, was’t not the other’s harm?
Close clasped, one single form.
Was it not meant of aye?
Poet, take thou my hand -we’ll still
Walk a little way.
A few random poems:
- Аля Кудряшева – Поперек
- Io v’amo sol perche (I Love You Simply Because) by Torquato Tasso
- Free Poetry Competitions – Prepare to Win The Next Poetry Competition That You Enter!
- Ella Mason And Her Eleven Cats by Sylvia Plath
- Владимир Маяковский – Богомольное
- The Promise of Sleep poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry
- Юрий Галансков – Справедливости окровавленные уста
- Lost poem – Alfred Austin
- Sonnet 144: Two loves I have, of comfort and despair by William Shakespeare
- I see the Four-fold Man by William Blake
- Владимир Бенедиктов – Довольно
- Robert Burns: The Humble Petition Of Bruar Water: To the noble Duke of Athole.
- Keeping Things Whole by Mark Strand
- Verses
- Justice by Rudyard Kipling
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
- Sonnet 48: How careful was I, when I took my way by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 47: Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 46: Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 45: The other two, slight air and purging fire by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 44: If the dull substance of my flesh were thought by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 43: When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 42: That thou hast her, it is not all my grief by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 41: Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 40: Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 3: Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 39: O, how thy worth with manners may I sing by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 38: How can my Muse want subject to invent by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 37: As a decrepit father takes delight by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 36: Let me confess that we two must be twain by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 35: No more be grieved at that which thou hast done by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 34: Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 33: Full many a glorious morning have I seen by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 74: But be contented when that fell arrest by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 73: That time of year thou mayst in me behold by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 72: O, lest the world should task you to recite by William Shakespeare
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
