A poem by Alistar Crowley (1875-1947)
To-night I tread the unsubstantial way
That looms before me, as the thundering night
Falls on the ocean: I must stop, and pray
One little prayer, and then; what bitter fight
Flames at the end beyond the darkling goal?
These are my passions that my feet must read;
This is my sword, the fervour of my soul;
This is my Will, the crown upon my head.
For see! the darkness beckons: I have gone,
Before this terrible hour, towards the gloom,
Braved the wild dragon, called the tiger on
With whirling cries of pride, sought out the tomb
Where lurking vampires battened, and my steel
Has wrought its splendour through the gates of death
My courage did not falter: now I feel
My heart beat wave-wise, and my throat catch breath
As if I choked; some horror creeps between
The spirit of my will and its desire,
Some just reluctance to the Great Unseen
That coils its nameless terrors, and its dire
Fear round my heart; a devil cold as ice
Breathes somewhere, for I feel his shudder take
My veins: some deadlier asp or cockatrice
Slimes in my senses: I am half awake,
Half automatic, as I move along
Wrapped in a cloud of blackness deep as hell,
Hearing afar some half-forgotten song
As of disruption; yet strange glories dwell
Above my head, as if a sword of light,
Rayed of the very Dawn, would strike within
The limitations of this deadly night
That folds me for the sign of death and sin –
O Light! descend! My feet move vaguely on
In this amazing darkness, in the gloom
That I can touch with trembling sense. There shone
Once, in my misty memory, in the womb
Of some unformulated thought, the flame
And smoke of mighty pillars; yet my mind
Is clouded with the horror of this same
Path of the wise men: for my soul is blind
Yet: and the foemen I have never feared
I could not see (if such should cross the way),
And therefore I am strange: my soul is seared
With desolation of the blinding day
I have come out from: yes, that fearful light
Was not the Sun: my life has been the death,
This death may be the life: my spirit sight
Knows that at last, at least. My doubtful breath
Is breathing in a nobler air; I know,
I know it in my soul, despite of this,
The clinging darkness of the Long Ago,
Cruel as death, and closer than a kiss,
This horror of great darkness. I am come
Into this darkness to attain the light:
To gain my voice I make myself as dumb:
That I may see I close my outer sight:
So, I am here. My brows are bent in prayer:
I kneel already in the Gates of Dawn;
And I am come, albeit unaware,
To the deep sanctuary: my hope is drawn
From wells profounder than the very sea.
Yea, I am come, where least I guessed it so,
Into the very Presence of the Three
That Are beyond all Gods. And now I know
What spiritual Light is drawing me
Up to its stooping splendour. In my soul
I feel the Spring, the all-devouring Dawn,
Rush with my Rising. There, beyond the goal,
The Veil is rent!
Yes: let the veil be drawn.
A few random poems:
- The Pilgrim by William Butler Yeats
- The Fruit Garden Path poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Владимир Степанов – Акробат (Буква А)
- Answers by Mark Strand
- Desert Places by Robert Frost
- The Peasant’s Return by William Barnes
- Life by Walter William Safar
- I Want Those Words Today by Pandian Chelliah
- The gypsy song by Sunil Sharma
- On Australian Hills
- Here’s to the Mice! by Vachel Lindsay
- Федор Сологуб – Лихо
- Владимир Маяковский – Ода революции
- Epistles to Several Persons: Epistle IV, To Richard Boyle, poem – Alexander Pope
- Омар Хайям – Мы влюбчивая голь, здесь нету мусульман
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
- The Song Of Wandering Aengus by William Butler Yeats
- The Song Of The Old Mother by William Butler Yeats
- The Shadowy Waters: The Harp of Aengus by William Butler Yeats
- The Seven Sages by William Butler Yeats
- The Secret Rose by William Butler Yeats
- The Second Coming by William Butler Yeats
- The Scholars by William Butler Yeats
- The Saint And The Hunchback by William Butler Yeats
- The Sad Shepherd by William Butler Yeats
- The Rose Tree by William Butler Yeats
- The Rose Of The World by William Butler Yeats
- The Rose Of Peace by William Butler Yeats
- The Rose Of Battle by William Butler Yeats
- The Results Of Thought by William Butler Yeats
- The Realists by William Butler Yeats
- The Poet Pleads With The Elemental Powers by William Butler Yeats
- The Pity Of Love by William Butler Yeats
- The Pilgrim by William Butler Yeats
- The Phases Of The Moon by William Butler Yeats
- The People by William Butler Yeats
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
