Alas! alas! this wasted Night
With all its Jasmin-scented air,
Its thousand stars, serenely bright!
I lie alone, and long for you,
Long for your Champa-scented hair,
Your tranquil eyes of twilight hue;
Long for the close-curved, delicate lips
–Their sinuous sweetness laid on mine–
Here, where the slender fountain drips,
Here, where the yellow roses glow,
Pale in the tender silver shine
The stars across the garden throw.
Alas! alas! poor passionate Youth!
Why must we spend these lonely nights?
The poets hardly speak the truth,–
Despite their praiseful litany,
His season is not all delights
Nor every night an ecstasy!
The very power and passion that make–
_Might_ make–his days one golden dream,
How he must suffer for their sake!
Till, in their fierce and futile rage,
The baffled senses almost deem
They might be happier in old age.
Age that can find red roses sweet,
And yet not crave a rose-red mouth;
Hear Bulbuls, with no wish that feet
Of sweeter singers went his way;
Inhale warm breezes from the South,
Yet never fed his fancy stray.
From some near Village I can hear
The cadenced throbbing of a drum,
Now softly distant, now more near;
And in an almost human fashion,
It, plaintive, wistful, seems to come
Laden with sighs of fitful passion,
To mock me, lying here alone
Among the thousand useless flowers
Upon the fountain’s border-stone–
Cold stone, that chills me as I lie
Counting the slowly passing hours
By the white spangles in the sky.
Some feast the Tom-toms celebrate,
Where, close together, side by side,
Gay in their gauze and tinsel state
With lips serene and downcast eyes,
Sit the young bridegroom and his bride,
While round them songs and laughter rise.
They are together; Why are we
So hopelessly, so far apart?
Oh, I implore you, come to me!
Come to me, Solace of mine eyes!
Come Consolation of my heart!
Light of my senses! What replies?
A little, languid, mocking breeze
That rustles through the Jasmin flowers
And stirs among the Tamarind trees;
A little gurgle of the spray
That drips, unheard, though silent hours,
Then breaks in sudden bubbling play.
Wind, have you never loved a rose?
And water, seek you not the Sea?
Why, therefore, mock at my repose?
Is it my fault I am alone
Beneath the feathery Tamarind tree
Whose shadows over me are thrown?
Nay, I am mad indeed, with thirst
For all to me this night denied
And drunk with longing, and accurst
Beyond all chance of sleep or rest,
With love, unslaked, unsatisfied,
And dreams of beauty unpossessed.
Hating the hour that brings you not,
Mad at the space betwixt us twain,
Sad for my empty arms, so hot
And fevered, even the chilly stone
Can scarcely cool their burning pain,–
And oh, this sense of being alone!
Take hence, O Night, your wasted hours,
You bring me not my Life’s Delight,
My Star of Stars, my Flower of Flowers!
You leave me loveless and forlorn,
Pass on, most false and futile night,
Pass on, and perish in the Dawn!
A few random poems:
- Dusk In Autumn by Sara Teasdale
- For the Lute by William Somervile
- Flight To Nature by William Gilmore Simms
- Baltimore Was Always Blue by Michael Salcman
- Aunt Dorothys Lecture
- Online Lover by Rainbow Reed
- Sonnet 23 poem – John Milton poems
- Алексей Плещеев – Ее мне жаль
- On the Religious Memory of Mrs. Catherine Thomson, my Christian Friend, Deceased Dec. 16, 1646 poem – John Milton poems
- Milagros Retenidos poem – Ana Chig poems | Poems and Poetry
- Федор Тютчев – А.А. Фету (Тебе сердечный мой поклон)
- Иван Киуру – Ершок с вершок
- When Helen Lived by William Butler Yeats
- The Captain by Stevens Cadet
- Don’t know the answer by Vinko Kalinic
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
- Омар Хайям – Из допущенных в рай и повергнутых в ад
- Омар Хайям – Имей друзей поменьше, не расширяй их круг
- Омар Хайям – И теперь живу под гнетом страха
- Омар Хайям – И сиянье рая, и ада огни
- Омар Хайям – Грех Хайям совершил и совсем занемог
- Омар Хайям – Где вы, друзья! Где вольный ваш припев?
- Омар Хайям – Этот мастер всевышний
- Омар Хайям – Это время любви, словно тёплая осень
- Омар Хайям – Есть много вер, и все несхожи
- Омар Хайям – Если жизнь все равно неизбежно пройдет
- Омар Хайям – Если все государства, вблизи и вдали
- Омар Хайям – Если ты не впадаешь в молитвенный раж
- Омар Хайям – Если счастлив от счастья
- Омар Хайям – Если любишь, то стойко разлуку терпи
- Омар Хайям – Если гурия страстно целует в уста
- Омар Хайям – Если есть у тебя для жилья закуток
- Омар Хайям – Если бог не услышит меня в вышине
- Омар Хайям – Египет, Рим, Китай держи ты под пятой
- Омар Хайям – Двести лет проживешь, или тысячу лет
- Омар Хайям – Душой ты безбожник с Писаньем в руке
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.