A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)
There are no days for me any more, for the dawn is dark with tears,
There is no rest for me any more, for the night is thick with fears.
There are no flowers nor any fruit, for the sorrowful locusts came,
And the garden is but a memory, the vineyard only a name.
There is no light in the empty sky, no sail upon the sea,
Birds are yet on their nests perchance, but they sing no more to me.
Past–vanished–faded away–all the joys that were.
My youth died down in a swift decline when they married her to despair.
“My lord, the crowd in the Audience Hall; how long wilt thou have them wait?”
I have given my father’s younger son the guidance of the State.
“The steeds are saddled, the Captains call for the orders of the day.”
Tell them that I shall ride no more to the hunting or the fray.
“Sweet the scent of the Moghra flowers;” Brother, it may be so.
“The young, flushed spring is with us again.” Is it? I did not know.
“The Zamorin’s daughter draweth near, on slender golden feet;”
Oh, a curse upon all sweet things say I, to whom they are no more sweet!
Dost think that a man as sick as I can compass a woman’s ease?
That the sons of a man who is like to me could ever find rest or peace?
Tell them to marry them where they will, if their longing be so sore,
Such are the things that all men seek, but I shall seek no more.
All my muscles are fallen in, and the blood deserts my veins,
Every fibre and bone of me is waxen full of pains,
The iron feet of mine enemy’s curse are heavy upon my head,
Look at me and judge for thyself, thou seest I am but dead.
“Then, who is it, Prince, who has done this thing, has sown such a bitter seed,
That we hale him forth to the Market-place, bind him and let him bleed,
That the flesh may shudder and wince and writhe, reddening ‘neath the rod.”
Love is the evil-doer, alas! and how shalt thou scourge a God?
A few random poems:
- Владимир Степанов – Галочка-считалочка
- Once A Great Love by Yehuda Amichai
- Morning Poem #43 by Wanda Phipps
- Song of the Open Road. by Walt Whitman
- Владимир Лифшиц – Баллада о черством куске
- No Foe Shall Gather Our Harvest by Mary Gilmore
- Love’s Gleaning Tide by William Morris
- For The Dead
- Алексей Николаевич Толстой – Гроза
- Sonnet CLI by William Shakespeare
- Dinner in a Quick Lunch Room by Stephen Vincent Benet
- Наум Коржавин – Гамлет
- Альфред Теннисон – Рыцарь Галаад
- Tatiana’s Letter poem – Alexander Pushkin
- “Beyond the pasture’s withered bents ” poem – Alfred Austin
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
- Path by Pierre Reverdy
- Pace of Life by Pierre Reverdy
- One More Awakening by Pawan Kumar
- Of You by Philo Ikonya
- O my faithful by Priyanka Tungana
- O Man by Pawan Kumar
- My Daughter by Preeth Nambiar
- Moonbeam flowers by Preeth Nambiar
- Miracles by Paul Hostovsky
- Mind Extempore by Pawan Kumar
- Lovers since Eternity by Preeth Nambiar
- Love Dale by Preeth Nambiar
- Loud Silence by Preethi Saravanakumar
- Life Passing by Pawan Kumar
- Letter to my father by Preeth Nambiar
- Let me Roam by Penny Leigh Moller
- Lamhe by Priyanka Tungana
- It is raining! by Preeth Nambiar
- It’s the Wrong Address by peggy boone
- Infinite Journey by Pawan Kumar
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.