English Poetry. William Barnes. First Collection. Sundry Pieces. The Dree Woaks. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) First Collection. Sundry Pieces. The Dree Woaks By the brow o’ thik hangèn I spent all my youth, In the house that did peep out between The dree woaks, that in winter avworded their lewth, An’ in zummer their sheäde to the green; An’ […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. First Collection. Sundry Pieces. Jeäne. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) First Collection. Sundry Pieces. Jeäne We now mid hope vor better cheer, My smilèn wife o’ twice vive year. Let others frown, if thou bist near Wi’ hope upon thy brow, Jeäne; Vor I vu’st lov’d thee when thy light Young sheäpe vu’st grew […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. First Collection. Sundry Pieces. The Stwonèn Pworch. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) First Collection. Sundry Pieces. The Stwonèn Pworch A new house! Ees, indeed! a small Straïght, upstart thing, that, after all, Do teäke in only half the groun’ The wold woone did avore ’twer down; Wi’ little windows straïght an’ flat, Not big enough to […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. First Collection. Sundry Pieces. Aunt’s Tantrums. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) First Collection. Sundry Pieces. Aunt’s Tantrums Why ees, aunt Anne’s a little staïd, But kind an’ merry, poor wold maïd! If we don’t cut her heart wi’ slights, She’ll zit an’ put our things to rights, Upon a hard day’s work, o’ nights; But […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. First Collection. Sundry Pieces. The Pleäce a Teäle’s a-twold o’. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) First Collection. Sundry Pieces. The Pleäce a Teäle’s a-twold o’ Why tidden vields an’ runnèn brooks, Nor trees in Spring or fall; An’ tidden woody slopes an’ nooks, Do touch us mwost ov all; An’ tidden ivy that do cling By housen big an’ […]
English Poetry. Robert Bloomfield. The Soldier’s Return to His Home. Роберт Блумфилд.
Robert Bloomfield (Роберт Блумфилд) The Soldier’s Return to His Home My untried muse shall no high tone assume, Nor strut in arms — farewell, my cap and plume! Brief be my verse, a task within my power; I tell my feelings in one happy hour: But what an […]
English Poetry. Robert Bloomfield. Rosamond’s Song of Hope. Роберт Блумфилд.
Robert Bloomfield (Роберт Блумфилд) Rosamond’s Song of Hope Sweet Hope, so oft my childhood’s friend, I will believe thee still, For thou canst joy with sorrow blend, Where grief alone would kill. When disappointments wrung my heart, Ill brook’d in tender years, Thou, like a sun, perform’dst […]
English Poetry. Edmund Spenser. Prothalamion. Эдмунд Спенсер.
Edmund Spenser (Эдмунд Спенсер) Prothalamion Calm was the day, and through the trembling air Sweet-breathing Zephyrus did softly play A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay Hot Titan’s beams, which then did glister fair; When I (whom sullen care, Through discontent of my long fruitless stay In prince’s […]
English Poetry. Robert Bloomfield. Lines Occasioned by a Visit to Whittlebury Forest, Northamptonshire, in August, 1800. Роберт Блумфилд.
Robert Bloomfield (Роберт Блумфилд) Lines Occasioned by a Visit to Whittlebury Forest, Northamptonshire, in August, 1800 Genius of the Forest Shades! Lend thy pow’r, and lend thine ear! A Stranger trod thy lonely glades, Amidst thy dark and bounding Deer; Inquiring Childhood claims the verse, O let them […]
English Poetry. Robert Bloomfield. Barnham Water. Роберт Блумфилд.
Robert Bloomfield (Роберт Блумфилд) Barnham Water Fresh from the Hall of Bounty sprung, With glowing heart and ardent eye, With song and rhyme upon my tongue, And fairy visions dancing by, The mid-day sun in all his pow’r The backward valley painted gay; Mine was a road without […]
English Poetry. Robert Bloomfield. Mary’s Evening Sigh. Роберт Блумфилд.
Robert Bloomfield (Роберт Блумфилд) Mary’s Evening Sigh How bright with pearl the western sky! How glorious far and wide, Yon lines of golden clouds that lie So peaceful side by side! Their deep’ning tints, the arch of light, All eyes with rapture see; E’en while I sigh I […]
English Poetry. Robert Bloomfield. The Woodland Hallo. Роберт Блумфилд.
Robert Bloomfield (Роберт Блумфилд) The Woodland Hallo In our cottage, that peeps from the skirts of the wood, I am mistress, no mother have I; Yet blithe are my days, for my father is good, And kind is my lover hard by; They both work together beneath the […]
English Poetry. Robert Bloomfield. The Horkey. Роберт Блумфилд.
Robert Bloomfield (Роберт Блумфилд) The Horkey A Provincial Ballad. What gossips prattled in the sun, Who talk’d him fairly down, Up, memory! tell; ’tis Suffolk fun, And lingo of their own. Ah! Judie Twitchet! though thou’rt dead, With thee the tale begins; For still seems thrumming […]
English Poetry. Countee Cullen. Lines to My Father. Каунти Каллен.
Countee Cullen (Каунти Каллен) Lines to My Father The many sow, but only the chosen reap; Happy the wretched host if Day be brief, That with the cool oblivion of sleep A dawnless Night may soothe the smart of grief. If from the soil our sweat enriches […]
English Poetry. Countee Cullen. To a Brown Boy. Каунти Каллен.
Countee Cullen (Каунти Каллен) To a Brown Boy That brown girl’s swagger gives a twitch To beauty like a Queen, Lad, never damn your body’s itch When loveliness is seen. For there is ample room for bliss In pride in clean brown limbs, And lips know better […]
English Poetry. Countee Cullen. Harlem Wine. Каунти Каллен.
Countee Cullen (Каунти Каллен) Harlem Wine This is not water running here, These thick rebellious streams That hurtle flesh and bone past fear Down alleyways of dreams This is a wine that must flow on Not caring how or where So it has ways to flow upon […]
English Poetry. Countee Cullen. Tableau. Каунти Каллен.
Countee Cullen (Каунти Каллен) Tableau Locked arm in arm they cross the way The black boy and the white, The golden splendor of the day The sable pride of night. From lowered blinds the dark folk stare And here the fair folk talk, Indignant that these two […]
English Poetry. Countee Cullen. Yet Do I Marvel. Каунти Каллен.
Countee Cullen (Каунти Каллен) Yet Do I Marvel I doubt not God is good, well-meaning, kind And did He stoop to quibble could tell why The little buried mole continues blind, Why flesh that mirrors Him must some day die, Make plain the reason tortured Tantalus Is […]
English Poetry. Edmund Spenser. The Visions Of Petrarch. Эдмунд Спенсер.
Edmund Spenser (Эдмунд Спенсер) The Visions Of Petrarch Being one day at my window all alone, So manie strange things happened me to see, As much it grieueth me to thinke thereon. At my right hand a Hynde appear’d to mee, So faire as mote the greatest God […]
English Poetry. Countee Cullen. The Wise. Каунти Каллен.
Countee Cullen (Каунти Каллен) The Wise Dead men are wisest, for they know How far the roots of flowers go, How long a seed must rot to grow. Dead men alone bear frost and rain On throbless heart and heatless brain, And feel no stir of […]
English Poetry. Countee Cullen. The Shroud of Color. Каунти Каллен.
Countee Cullen (Каунти Каллен) The Shroud of Color ”Lord, being dark,” I said, ”I cannot bear The further touch of earth, the scented air; Lord, being dark, forewilled to that despair My color shrouds me in, I am as dirt Beneath my brother’s heel; there is a […]
English Poetry. Countee Cullen. The Loss of Love. Каунти Каллен.
Countee Cullen (Каунти Каллен) The Loss of Love All through an empty place I go, And find her not in any room; The candles and the lamps I light Go down before a wind of gloom. Thick-spraddled lies the dust about, A fit, sad place to […]
English Poetry. Countee Cullen. That Bright Chimeric Beast. Каунти Каллен.
Countee Cullen (Каунти Каллен) * * * That bright chimeric beast Conceived yet never born, Save in the poet’s breast, The white-flanked unicorn, Never may be shaken From his solitude; Never may be taken In any earthly wood. That bird forever feathered, Of its new […]
English Poetry. Countee Cullen. Simon the Cyrenian Speaks. Каунти Каллен.
Countee Cullen (Каунти Каллен) Simon the Cyrenian Speaks He never spoke a word to me, And yet He called my name; He never gave a sign to me, And yet I knew and came. At first I said, ”I will not bear His cross upon my […]
English Poetry. Countee Cullen. Saturday’s Child. Каунти Каллен.
Countee Cullen (Каунти Каллен) Saturday’s Child Some are teethed on a silver spoon, With the stars strung for a rattle; I cut my teeth as the black racoon– For implements of battle. Some are swaddled in silk and down, And heralded by a star; They swathed my […]
English Poetry. Countee Cullen. Heritage. Каунти Каллен.
Countee Cullen (Каунти Каллен) Heritage What is Africa to me: Copper sun or scarlet sea, Jungle star or jungle track, Strong bronzed men, or regal black Women from whose loins I sprang When the birds of Eden sang? One three centuries removed From the scenes his fathers […]
English Poetry. Countee Cullen. Fruit of the Flower. Каунти Каллен.
Countee Cullen (Каунти Каллен) Fruit of the Flower My father is a quiet man With sober, steady ways; For simile, a folded fan; His nights are like his days. My mother’s life is puritan, No hint of cavalier, A pool so calm you’re sure it can […]
English Poetry. Countee Cullen. From the Dark Tower. Каунти Каллен.
Countee Cullen (Каунти Каллен) From the Dark Tower We shall not always plant while others reap The golden increment of bursting fruit, Not always countenance, abject and mute, That lesser men should hold their brothers cheap; Not everlastingly while others sleep Shall we beguile their limbs with […]
English Poetry. Countee Cullen. For a Poet. Каунти Каллен.
Countee Cullen (Каунти Каллен) For a Poet To John Gaston Edgar I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth, And laid them away in a box of gold; Where long will cling the lips of the moth, I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth; […]
English Poetry. Edmund Spenser. A Hymn In Honour Of Beauty. Эдмунд Спенсер.
Edmund Spenser (Эдмунд Спенсер) A Hymn In Honour Of Beauty Ah whither, Love, wilt thou now carry me? What wontless fury dost thou now inspire Into my feeble breast, too full of thee? Whilst seeking to aslake thy raging fire, Thou in me kindlest much more great desire, […]
English Poetry. Countee Cullen. For a Lady I Know. Каунти Каллен.
Countee Cullen (Каунти Каллен) For a Lady I Know She even thinks that up in heaven Her class lies late and snores While poor black cherubs rise at seven To do celestial chores. Countee Cullen’s other poems: From the Dark Tower That Bright Chimeric Beast The Wakeupworld […]
English Poetry. Countee Cullen. A Brown Girl Dead. Каунти Каллен.
Countee Cullen (Каунти Каллен) A Brown Girl Dead With two white roses on her breasts, White candles at head and feet, Dark Madonna of the grave she rests; Lord Death has found her sweet. Her mother pawned her wedding ring To lay her out […]
English Poetry. Countee Cullen. To Certain Critics. Каунти Каллен.
Countee Cullen (Каунти Каллен) To Certain Critics Then call me traitor if you must, Shout reason and default! Say I betray a sacred trust Aching beyond this vault. I’ll bear your censure as your praise, For never shall the clan Confine […]
English Poetry. Countee Cullen. Incident. Каунти Каллен.
Countee Cullen (Каунти Каллен) Incident Once riding in old Baltimore, Heart-filled, head-filled with glee; I saw a Baltimorean Keep looking straight at me. Now I was eight and very small, And he was no whit bigger, And so I smiled, but he poked out His tongue, and […]
English Poetry. Robert Burns. The Deil’s awa’ wi’ the Exciseman. Роберт Бернс. «На скрипке Дьявол заиграл…»
Robert Burns (Роберт Бернс) The Deil’s awa’ wi’ the Exciseman 1. The Deil cam fiddling thro’ the town, And danced awa wi’ the Exciseman; And ilka wife cried “Auld Mahoun, We wish you luck o’ your prize, man.” Chorus The Deil’s awa, the Deil’s awa, […]
English Poetry. Emily Elizabeth Dickinson. I’m Nobody! Who Are You?. Эмили Дикинсон. Я – Никто. А ты — ты кто?
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (Эмили Дикинсон) * * * I’m Nobody! Who are you? Are you — Nobody — too? Then there’s a pair of us! Don’t tell! They’d banish us — you know! How dreary — to be — Somebody! How public — like a Frog — […]
Во Львове горит Львив – Wybuchy We Lwowie
Там пасётся рагулье Там где, Lemberg, Lwów, и Львов Истребим без лишних слов Свидомитское зверье У хохла горит залупа Полячкам же жаль хохлов Выбухнула от гнева дупа Дупы нет, и всех делов Плачут горько лимитрофы Закатилась их звезда Лимитрофам – катастрофу А Хохляндии – пизда Уж простите за хулиганство:) Внешние ссылки Ivo – юридические документы […]
English Poetry. Walt Whitman. Leaves of Grass. 24. Autumn Rivulets. 3. There Was a Child Went Forth. Уолт Уитмен. Листья травы. 24. Из цикла «Осенние ручьи». 3. Был ребенок, и он рос с каждым днем
Walt Whitman (Уолт Уитмен) Leaves of Grass. 24. Autumn Rivulets. 3. There Was a Child Went Forth There was a child went forth every day, And the first object he look’d upon, that object he became, And that object became part of him for the day or a […]
English Poetry. Gerard Manley Hopkins. The Windhover. Джерард Мэнли Хопкинс.
Gerard Manley Hopkins (Джерард Мэнли Хопкинс) The Windhover To Christ our Lord I CAUGHT this morning morning’s minion, king- dom of daylight’s dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding High there, how he rung upon the rein of […]
English Poetry. Gerard Manley Hopkins. The Lantern out of Doors. Джерард Мэнли Хопкинс. Фонарь в ночи
Gerard Manley Hopkins (Джерард Мэнли Хопкинс) The Lantern out of Doors SOMETIMES a lantern moves along the night, That interests our eyes. And who goes there? I think; where from and bound, I wonder, where, With, all down darkness wide, his wading light? Men go by me […]