O rose beyond the reach of time and of the senses
O kiss enveloped in the scarves of all the winds
surprise me with one dream
that my madness will recoil from you
Recoiling from you
In order to approach you
I discovered time
Approaching you
in order to recoil form you
I discovered my senses
Between approach and recoil
there is a stone the size of a dream
It does not approach
It does not recoil
You are my country
A stone is not what I am
therefor I do not like to face the sky
not do I die level with the ground
but I am a stranger, always a stranger
End of the poem
15 random poems
- Ballade Of Midsummer Days And Nights by William Ernest Henley
- Как Муромец Илья когда-то
- Syed Amir
- Hyperion. Book I poem – John Keats poems
- Leili by Sarojini Naidu
- Вера Полозкова – Францу Кафке
- Icicles round a Tree in Dumfriesshire by Ruth Padel
- Invitation
- A Sort Of A Song by William Carlos Williams
- On A Seven Day Diary
- On The Luxembourg Gallery by Washington Allston
- message from the sun by Raj Arumugam
- Aquatic Nocturne by Sylvia Plath
- Алексей Николаевич Толстой – Дафнис подслушивает сов
- English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “Irish Melodies”. 85. Oh For the Swords of Former Time. Томас Мур.
Some external links:
Duckduckgo.com – the alternative in the US
Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe
Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).
