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:
- Степан Щипачев – Ровеснику
- The Life Theoretic poem – Aldous Huxley poems | Poetry Monster
- XII: Some Verses: Sonnet, To The Authour by William Alexander
- Stanzas poem – Aldous Huxley poems | Poetry Monster
- Gertrude of Wyoming by Thomas Campbell
- To His Mistress In Absence by Torquato Tasso
- The Rowing Song by Roald Dahl
- A Riddle: On A Kiss by William Strode
- I am not ashamed of myself by Swami Aaron Thomas
- life on the escalator by Raj Arumugam
- Владимир Маяковский – Последний баронишко (Главполитпросвет №324)
- Aspiration
- Михаил Лермонтов – А. А. Олениной (Ах! Анна Алексевна)
- A Dream Of Death by William Butler Yeats
- Sonnet 81: Or I shall live your epitaph to make by William Shakespeare
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
- Вера Полозкова – И тут он приваливается к оградке
- Вера Полозкова – И пока он вскакивает с кровати
- Вера Полозкова – И катись бутылкой по автостраде
- Вера Полозкова – Губы плавя в такой ухмылке
- Вера Полозкова – Горький запах полыни
- Вера Полозкова – Гонево
- Вера Полозкова – Францу Кафке
- Вера Полозкова – Это не прихоть, это не блажь
- Вера Полозкова – Есть дерево, в лесу всего древней
- Вера Полозкова – Для неровного счета
- Вера Полозкова – Детство
- Вера Полозкова – Декабрь
- Вера Полозкова – Да что у меня, нормально всё, так, условно
- Вера Полозкова – Мой великий кардиотерапевт
- Вера Полозкова – Мне бы только хотелось
- Вера Полозкова – Манипенни, твой мальчик, видно, неотвратим
- Вера Полозкова – Мало ли кто
- Вера Звягинцева – Всхожу на мост
- Вера Звягинцева – Ты не снись мне
- Вера Звягинцева – Стоишь, не поднимая глаз
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
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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
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