A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)
Beloved! your hair was golden
As tender tints of sunrise,
As corn beside the River
In softly varying hues.
I loved you for your slightness,
Your melancholy sweetness,
Your changeful eyes, that promised
What your lips would still refuse.
You came to me, and loved me,
Were mine upon the River,
The azure water saw us
And the blue transparent sky;
The Lotus flowers knew it,
Our happiness together,
While life was only River,
Only love, and you and I.
Love wakened on the River,
To sounds of running water,
With silver Stars for witness
And reflected Stars for light;
Awakened to existence,
With ripples for first music
And sunlight on the River
For earliest sense of sight.
Love grew upon the River
Among the scented flowers,
The open rosy flowers
Of the Lotus buds in bloom–
Love, brilliant as the Morning,
More fervent than the Noon-day,
And tender as the Twilight
In its blue transparent gloom.
Love died upon the River!
Cold snow upon the mountains,
The Lotus leaves turned yellow
And the water very grey.
Our kisses faint and falter,
The clinging hands unfasten,
The golden time is over
And our passion dies away.
Away. To be forgotten,
A ripple on the River,
That flashes in the sunset,
That flashed,–and died away.
Second Song: The Girl from Baltistan
Throb, throb, throb,
Far away in the blue transparent Night,
On the outer horizon of a dreaming consciousness,
She hears the sound of her lover’s nearing boat
Afar, afloat
On the river’s loneliness, where the Stars are the only light;
Hear the sound of the straining wood
Like a broken sob
Of a heart’s distress,
Loving misunderstood.
She lies, with her loose hair spent in soft disorder,
On a silken sheet with a purple woven border,
Every cell of her brain is latent fire,
Every fibre tense with restrained desire.
And the straining oars sound clearer, clearer,
The boat is approaching nearer, nearer;
“How to wait through the moments’ space
Till I see the light of my lover’s face?”
Throb, throb, throb,
The sound dies down the stream
Till it only clings at the senses’ edge
Like a half-remembered dream.
Doubtless, he in the silence lies,
His fair face turned to the tender skies,
Starlight touching his sleeping eyes.
While his boat caught in the thickset sedge
And the waters round it gurgle and sob,
Or floats set free on the river’s tide,
Oars laid aside.
She is awake and knows no rest,
Passion dies and is dispossessed
Of his brief, despotic power.
But the Brain, once kindled, would still be afire
Were the whole world pasture to its desire,
And all of love, in a single hour,–
A single wine cup, filled to the brim,
Given to slake its thirst.
Some there are who are thus-wise cursed
Times that follow fulfilled desire
Are of all their hours the worst.
They find no Respite and reach no Rest,
Though passion fail and desire grow dim,
No assuagement comes from the thing possessed
For possession feeds the fire.
“Oh, for the life of the bright hued things
Whose marriage and death are one,
A floating fusion on golden wings.
Alit with passion and sun!
“But we who re-marry a thousand times,
As the spirit or senses will,
In a thousand ways, in a thousand climes,
We remain unsatisfied still.”
As her lover left her, alone, awake she lies,
With a sleepless brain and weary, half-closed eyes.
She turns her face where the purple silk is spread,
Still sweet with delicate perfume his presence shed.
Her arms remembered his vanished beauty still,
And, reminiscent of clustered curls, her fingers thrill.
While the wonderful, Starlit Night wears slowly on
Till the light of another day, serene and wan,
Pierces the eastern skies.
A few random poems:
- The Do’set Militia by William Barnes
- Loud Silence by Preethi Saravanakumar
- Василий Жуковский – Гомер
- The Best Friend by William Henry Davies
- Зинаида Александрова – Мне рукою машет маленький сынок
- I Am Part Of The Load by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- My Girl she’s Airy: A Fragment by Robert Burns
- Ballade Of The Dead Cities poem – Andrew Lang poems
- William Strode – William Strode
- The Curse Upon Edward by Thomas Gray
- How Many Bards Gild The Lapses Of Time! poem – John Keats poems
- Home Sick
- Sad-Eyed and Soft and Grey by William Morris
- On Passing The New Menin Gate by Siegfried Sassoon
- Who’s Who by W H Auden
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
- Post coitum omne animal triste est sive gallus et mulier by T. Wignesan.
- Plaidoirie for a “Prince” of Jaffna by T. Wignesan
- Petrarchan Sonnet: If no one else breathed in this wide, wide world by T. Wignesan
- Paris, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s poem: Paris by T. Wignesan.
- Nevermore, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s sonnet: Nevermore by T. Wignesan
- Master Valluvan, the long-misunderstood Tamil Mentor by T. Wignesan
- Limerick: Once a Great Leader with empty pockets by T. Wignesan
- Criss-Cross Acrostic*: Ai My Eye ! by T. Wignesan
- Copla Suelta: The One and the Same Dream by T. Wignesan
- Ballade: In favour of those called Decadents and Symbolists, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s Ballade: En faveur des dénommés Déca by T Wignesan
- Am I the Assassin or the Undertaker by T. Wignesan
- Whispers of Immortality by T. S. Eliot
- The Song Of The Jellicles by T. S. Eliot
- The Rum Tum Tugger by T. S. Eliot
- The Old Gumbie Cat by T. S. Eliot
- The Naming Of Cats by T. S. Eliot
- The Hollow Men by T. S. Eliot
- The Boston Evening Transcript by T. S. Eliot
- The Ad-Dressing Of Cats by T. S. Eliot
- Sweeney Erect by T. S. Eliot
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.