A poem by Alistar Crowley (1875-1947)
The mighty sound of forests murmuring
In answer to the dread command;
The stars that shudder when their king
extends his hand,
His awful hand to bless, to curse; or moves
Toward the dimmest den
In the thick leaves, not known of loves
Or nymphs or men;
(Only the sylph’s frail gossamer may wave
Their quiet frondage yet,
Only her dewy tears may lave
The violet;)
The mighty answer of the shaken sky
To his supreme behest; the call
Of Ibex that behold on high
Night’s funeral,
And see the pale moon quiver and depart
Far beyond space, the sun ascend
And draw earth’s globe unto his heart
To make an end;
The shriek of startled birds; the sobs that tear
With sudden terror the sharp sea
That slept, and wove its golden hair
Most mournfully;
The rending of the earth at his command
Who wields the wrath of heaven, and is dumb;
Hell starts up; and before his hand
Is overcome.
I heard these voices, and beheld afar
These dread works wrought at his behest:
And on his forehead, lo! a star,
And on his breast.
And on his feet I knew the sandals were
More beautiful than flame, and white,
And on the glory of his hair
The crown of night.
And I beheld his robe, and on its hem
Were writ unlawful words to say,
Broidered like lilies, with a gem
More clear than day.
And round him shone so wonderful a light
As when on Galilee
Jesus once walked, and clove the night,
And calmed the sea.
I scarce could see his features for the fire
That dwelt about his brow,
Yet, for the whiteness of my own desire,
I see him now;
Because my footsteps follow his, and tread
The awful bounds of heaven, and make
The very graves yield up their dead,
And high thrones shake;
Because my eyes still steadily behold
And dazzle not, nor shun the night,
The foam; born lamp of beaten gold
And secret might;
Because my forehead bears the sacred Name,
And my lips bear the brand
Of Him whose heaven is one flame,
Whose holy hand
Gathers this earth, who built the vaults of space,
Moulded the stars, and fixed the iron sea,
Because His love lights through my face
And all of me.
Because my hand may fasten on the sword
Of my heart falter not, and smite
Those lampless limits most abhorred
Of iron night,
And pass beyond their horror to attack
Fresh foemen, light and truth to bring
Through their untrodden fields of black,
A victor king.
I know all must be well, all must be free;
I know God as I know a friend;
I conquer, and most silently
Await the end.
A few random poems:
- Robert Burns: The Toadeater:
- Stings by Sylvia Plath
- Владимир Маяковский – Раек (РОСТА №8)
- Николай Языков – Баян к русскому воину
- Ode on the Departed Regency Bill by Robert Burns
- Зинаида Александрова – Невидимка
- Эмиль Верхарн – Я покидаю сна густую сень
- A Fable by William Cowper
- I Chide Not At The Seasons poem – Alfred Austin
- William Cullen Bryant – William Cullen Bryant
- The Coach Of Life poem – Alexander Pushkin
- A Tale, Founded On A Fact, Which Happened In January, 1779 by William Cowper
- Robert Burns: Inscription: Written on the blank leaf of a copy of the last edition of my poems, presented to the Lady whom, in so many fictitious reveries of passion, but with the most ardent sentiments of real friendship, I have so often sung under the name of-“Chloris.”
- Омар Хайям – Не оплакивай, смертный, вчерашних потерь
- In A Garden by Sara Teasdale
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
- A Smuggler’s Song by Rudyard Kipling
- A Ripple Song by Rudyard Kipling
- A Recantation by Rudyard Kipling
- A Pict Song by Rudyard Kipling
- A Nativity by Rudyard Kipling
- A General Summary by Rudyard Kipling
- A Code of Morals by Rudyard Kipling
- A Charm by Rudyard Kipling
- A Carol by Rudyard Kipling
- You Personify God’s Message by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- Who Says Words With My Mouth? by Rumi
- Who is at my door? by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- When I am asleep and crumbling in the tomb by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- What Hidden Sweetness Is There by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- Weary not of us, for we are very beautiful by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- We Are As The Flute by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- Until You’ve Found Pain by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- Two Kinds of Intelligence by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- At the Twilight by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- This is Love by Rumi
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
