I’AVE often wish’d to love; what shall I do?
Me still the cruel boy does spare;
And I a double task must bear,
First to woo him, and then a mistress too.
Come at last and strike, for shame,
If thou art any thing besides a name;
I’ll think thee else no God to be,
But poets rather Gods, who first created thee.
I ask not one in whom all beauties grow;
Let me but love, whate’er she be,
She cannot seem deform’d to me;
And I would have her seem to others so.
Desire takes wings and straight does fly,
It stays not dully to inquire the Why.
That happy thing, a lover, grown,
I shall not see with others’ eyes, scarce with mine own.
If she be coy, and scorn my noble fire;
If her chill heart I cannot move;
Why I’ll enjoy the very love,
And make a mistress of my own desire.
Flames their most vigorous heat do hold,
And purest light, if compass’d round with cold:
So, when sharp winter means most harm,
The springing plants are by the snow itself kept warm.
But do not touch my heart, and so be gone;
Strike deep thy burning arrows in!
Lukewarmness I account a sin,
As great in love as in religion.
Come arm’d with flames; for I would prove
All the extremities of mighty Love.
Th’ excess of heat is but a fable;
We know the torrid zone is now found habitable.
Among the woods and forests thou art found,
There boars and lions thou dost tame;
Is not my heart a nobler game?
Let Venus, men; and beasts, Diana, wound!
Thou dost the birds thy subjects make;
Thy nimble feathers do their wings o’ertake:
Thou all the spring their songs dost hear;
Make me love too, I’ll sing to’ thee all the year!
What service can mute fishes do to thee?
Yet against them thy dart prevails,
Piercing the armour of their scales;
And still thy sea-born mother lives i’th’ sea.
Dost thou deny only to me
The no-great privilege of captivity?
I beg or challenge here thy bow;
Either thy pity to me, or else thine anger, show.
Come! or I ‘ll teach the world to scorn that bow:
I’ll teach them thousand wholesome arts
Both to resist and cure thy darts,
More than thy skilful Ovid e’er did know.
Musick of sighs thou shalt not hear,
Nor drink one wretched lover’s tasteful tear:
Nay, unless soon thou woundest me,
My verses shall not only wound, but murder, thee.
A few random poems:
- Аля Кудряшева – Театр-весна
- To George Felton Mathew poem – John Keats poems
- On A Thief (From The Greek) by William Cowper
- An Expostulation to Lord King by Thomas Moore
- Владимир Степанов – Барби (Буква Б)
- Poor Fisherman
- Жан де Лафонтен – Эзопово объяснение одного завещания
- Inscription For A Stone Erected At The Sowing Of A Grove Of Oaks At Chillington, Anno 1791 by William Cowper
- Robert Burns: To Miss Logan, With Beattie’s Poems, For A New-Year’s Gift, Jan. 1, 1787:
- A New Song to an Old Tune by William Ernest Henley
- Race by Vasko Popa
- Анатолий Жигулин – Ах, как весело листья летят
- Анатолий Жигулин – Кукует поздняя кукушка
- My Mother’s Grief
- Омар Хайям – Не оплакивай, смертный, вчерашних потерь
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
- Владимир Маяковский – Гимназист или строитель
- Владимир Маяковский – Гимн взятке
- Владимир Маяковский – Гимн судье
- Владимир Маяковский – Гимн обеду
- Владимир Маяковский – Гевлок Вильсон
- Владимир Маяковский – Если белогвардейщину не добьем совсем… (РОСТА №148)
- Владимир Маяковский – Еще Петербург
- Владимир Маяковский – Электричество – вид энергии
- Владимир Маяковский – Эй, уралец! Без помощи твоего рудника не победить разруху никак (Агитплакаты)
- Владимир Маяковский – Эй, товарищи, за труд!.. (Главполитпросвет №146)
- Владимир Маяковский – Эй, товарищи! От сбора продналога… (Главполитпросвет №284)
- Владимир Маяковский – Эй, товарищ! Поищи дома (Главполитпросвет №95)
- Владимир Маяковский – Эй, товарищ! Если ты пришел на Сухаревку… (РОСТА №262)
- Владимир Маяковский – Эй, шахтер! В опасности трудовая республика твоя! (Агитплакаты)
- Владимир Маяковский – Эй, онанисты, кричите «Ура!»
- Владимир Маяковский – Эй! крестьянин, помни ты… (Главполитпросвет №43)
- Владимир Маяковский – Эй, граждане, берегите воду!.. (Главполитпросвет №249)
- Владимир Маяковский – Эй
- Владимир Маяковский – Дядя ЭМЭСПЭО
- Владимир Маяковский – Две культуры
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
Abraham Cowley (1618 – 1667), the Royalist Poet.Poet and essayist Abraham Cowley was born in London, England, in 1618. He displayed early talent as a poet, publishing his first collection of poetry, Poetical Blossoms (1633), at the age of 15. Cowley studied at Cambridge University but was stripped of his Cambridge fellowship during the English Civil War and expelled for refusing to sign the Solemn League and Covenant of 1644. In turn, he accompanied Queen Henrietta Maria to France, where he spent 12 years in exile, serving as her secretary. During this time, Cowley completed The Mistress (1647). Arguably his most famous work, the collection exemplifies Cowley’s metaphysical style of love poetry. After the Restoration, Cowley returned to England, where he was reinstated as a Cambridge fellow and earned his MD before finally retiring to the English countryside. He is buried at Westminster Abbey alongside Geoffrey Chaucer and Edmund Spenser. Cowley is a wonderful poet and an outstanding representative of the English baroque.