This Month The Almonds Bloom At Kandahar

A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)

I hate this City, seated on the Plain,

The clang and clamour of the hot Bazar,

Knowing, amid the pauses of my pain,

This month the Almonds bloom in Kandahar.

The Almond-trees, that sheltered my Delight,

Screening my happiness as evening fell.

It was well worth–that most Enchanted Night–

This life in torment, and the next in Hell!

People are kind to me; one More than Kind,

Her lashes lie like fans upon her cheek,

But kindness is a burden on my mind,

And it is weariness to hear her speak.

For though that Kaffir’s bullet holds me here,

My thoughts are ever free, and wander far,

To where the Lilac Hills rise, soft and clear,

Beyond the Almond Groves of Kandahar.

He followed me to Sibi, to the Fair,

The Horse-fair, where he shot me weeks ago,

But since they fettered him I have no care

That my returning steps to health are slow.

They will not loose him till they know my fate,

And I rest here till I am strong to slay,

Meantime, my Heart’s Delight may safely wait

Among the Almond blossoms, sweet as they.

That cursed Kaffir! Well, he won by day,

But I won, what I so desired, by night,

_My_ arms held what his lack till Judgment Day!

Also, the game is not yet over–quite!

Wait, Amir Ali, wait till I come forth

To kill, before the Almond-trees are green,

To raze thy very Memory from the North,

_So that thou art not, and thou hast not been!_

Aha! Friend Amir Ali! it is Duty

To rid the World from Shiah dogs like thee,

They are but ill-placed moles on Islam’s beauty,

Such as the Faithful cannot calmly see!

Also thy bullet hurts me not a little,

Thy Shiah blood might serve to salve the ill.

Maybe some Afghan Promises are brittle;

Never a Promise to oneself, to kill!

Now I grow stronger, I have days of leisure

To shape my coming Vengeance as I lie,

And, undisturbed by call of War or Pleasure,

Can dream of many ways a man may die.

I shall not torture thee, thy friends might rally,

Some Fate assist thee and prove false to me;

Oh! shouldst thou now escape me, Amir Ali,

This would torment me through Eternity!

Aye, Shuffa-Jan, I will be quiet indeed,

Give here the Hakim’s powder if thou wilt,

And thou mayst sit, for I perceive thy need,

And rest thy soft-haired head upon my quilt.

Thy gentle love will not disturb a mind

That loves and hates beneath a fiercer Star.

Also, thou know’st, my Heart is left behind,

Among the Almond-trees of Kandahar!

Poetry Monster – Home

A few random 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 

• Memorials of A Tour In Scotland, 1803 I. Departure From The Vale Of Grasmere, August 1803 by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Matthew by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Maternal Grief by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Mark The Concentrated Hazels That Enclose by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Lucy by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Lucy Gray [or Solitude] by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Louisa: After Accompanying Her On A Mountain Excursion by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Look Now On That Adventurer Who Hath Paid by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• London, 1802 by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Lines Written On A Blank Leaf In A Copy Of The Author’s Poem “The Excursion,” by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Lines Written In Early Spring by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Lines Written As A School Exercise At Hawkshead, Anno Aetatis 14 by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Lines On The Expected Invasion, 1803 by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Lines Left Upon The Seat Of A Yew-Tree, by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Laodamia by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Lament Of Mary Queen Of Scots by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• It was an April morning: fresh and clear by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• It Is No Spirit Who From Heaven Hath Flown by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• It Is a Beauteous Evening by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth

More external links (open in a new tab):

Russian Commerce Agency

Dealing Monster

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

Poems by Author and Category

The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works