A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)
Beat on the Tom-toms, and scatter the flowers,
Jasmin, Hibiscus, vermillion and white,
This is the day, and the Hour of Hours,
Bring forth the Bride for her Lover’s delight.
Maidens no more, as a maiden shall claim her,
Near, in his Mystery, draweth Desire.
Who, if she waver a moment, shall blame her?
She is a flower, and love is a fire.
Choti Tinchaurya syani hogayi!
Give her the anklets, the rings and the necklace,
Darken her eyelids with delicate Art,
Heighten the beauty, so youthful and fleckless,
By the Gods favoured, oh, Bridegroom thou art!
Twine in thy fingers her fingers so slender,
Circle together the Mystical Fire,
Bridegroom,–a whisper–be gentle and tender,
Choti Tinchaurya knows not desire.
Abhi Tinchaurya syani hogayi!
Bring forth the silks and the veil that shall cover
Beauty, till yesterday, careless and wild,
Red are her lips for the kiss of a lover,
Ripe are her breasts for the lips of a child.
Centre and Shrine of Mysterious Power,
Chalice of Pleasure and Rose of Delight,
Shyly aware of the swift-coming hour,
Waiting the shade and the silence of night,
Choti Tinchaurya syani hogayi!
Still must the Bridegroom his longing dissemble,
Longing to loosen the silk-woven cord,
Ah, how his fingers will flutter and tremble,
Fingers well skilled with the bridle and sword.
Thine is his valor oh, Bride, and his beauty,
Thine to possess and re-issue again,
Such is thy tender and passionate duty,
Licit thy pleasure and honoured thy pain.
Choti Tinchaurya syani hogayi!
Choti Tinchaurya, lovely and tender,
Still all unbroken to sorrow and strife.
Come to the Bridegroom who, silk-clad and slender,
Brings thee the Honour and Burden of Life.
Bidding farewell to thy light-hearted playtime,
Worship thy Lover with fear and delight,
Art thou not ever, though slave of his daytime,
Choti Tinchaurya, queen of his night?
Choti Tinchaurya syani hogayi!

A few random poems:
- It was an April morning: fresh and clear by William Wordsworth
- Sonnet 71: No longer mourn for me when I am dead by William Shakespeare
- The Last Judgment poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry
- Sonnet CXIV by William Shakespeare
- Юрий Верховский – Зачем, паук, уходишь торопливо
- Ок Мельникова – Заповедь номер одиннадцать
- Bahut Kathin Hai poem – Amir Khusro poems | Poems and Poetry
- Ольга Седакова – Ни темной старины заветные преданья
- Владимир Маяковский – Никчемное самоутешение
- Ольга Берггольц – Я так хочу, так верю, так люблю
- Олег Григорьев – К себе домой из дальних стран
- It is a Show by Rixa White
- Высоцкий – Спасибо, что живой: стих, текст “Мой черный человек в костюме сером” – Poetry Monster
- At Carnoy by Siegfried Sassoon
- When I Have Fears That I May Cease To Be poem – John Keats poems
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
- Golden Eyes
- From Behind The Lattice
- Feroza
- Feroke
- Fate Knows No Tears
- Farewell
- Fancy
- Famine Song
- Early Love
- Disappointment
- Deserted Gipsys Song Hillside Camp
- Dedication
- Dedication To Malcolm Nicolson
- Camp Followers Song Gomal River
- Back To The Border
- Au Salon
- Atavism
- Ashore
- Among The Sandhills
- Among The Rice Fields
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.