A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)
Ah, Wind, I have always loved thee
Since those far off nights
When I lay beneath the vines
A prey to strange delights,
For among my tresses
Thy soft caresses
Were sweet as a lover’s to me.
Later thou grewest more wanton, or I more shy,
And after the bath I drew my garments close,
Fearing thy soft persuasion amongst my hair
When thou camest fresh with the scent of some ruffled rose.
Ah, Wind, thou hast lain with the Desert,
I know her savour well,
And the spices wherewith she scents her breasts–
She who has known such countless lovers
Yet rarely borne a city among her sands–
Thou comest as one from a night of love,
Thy breath is broken and hard,–
Bringing echoes of lonely things,
Vast and cruel, that the soft and golden sands
Buried beneath thin ripples so long ago.
Ah, Wind, thou hast given me lovely things,
The scent of a thousand flowers,
And the heavy perfume of pollen-laden fields,
Strange snatches of wild song from the heart of the dark Bazaar
That thrilled to my very core,
Till I threw the sheet aside and rose to follow,–
But whither, or what?
Also, Wind, thou broughtest the breath of the sea,
The sound of its myriad waves.
And in nights when I lay on the lonely sands
Stretching mine arms to thee,
Thou gavest me something–faint and vast and sweet,
Something ineffable, wistful, from far away,
Elsewhere–Beyond–
And thou wast kind to me in my times of love,
Cooling my lips
That my lover wore away,
While, wafting the scent from his divided hair,
Thou show’dst the stars between
Far away, and eclipsed by his burning eyes
Even the stars.
And now I almost foresee the place and the hour
When I shall open my dying lips to thee
And receive a last cool kiss.
Afterwards, Wind, since I have always loved thee,–
Whirl my dust to the scented heart of a moghra flower,
_His_ flower, but, ah, thou knowest,–
So often thy kisses have mingled with his and mine.
A few random poems:
- Elegy VI. To Charles Diodati, When He Was Visiting In The Country (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper
- Владимир Высоцкий – Водой наполненные горсти
- Владимир Степанов – Конкурс красоты
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- In Tempore Senectutis poem – Ezra Pound poems
- Possibilities by Rudyard Kipling
- Ольга Седакова – Плач
- For K. J., Leaving and Coming Back by Marilyn Hacker
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- A Hedge Of Rubber Trees poem – Amy Clampitt poems | Poems and Poetry
- Homosexuality by Spencer Reece
- The Gardener LXVIII: None Lives For Ever, Brother by Rabindranath Tagore
- From My Last Years. by Walt Whitman
- Silence
- Яков Полонский – Неотвязная
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
- Effrontery by Satish Verma
- Earthly Wounds by Satish Verma
- Drift Wood by Satish Verma
- Dream Landing by Satish Verma
- DOWNHILL JOURNEY by Satish Verma
- Doom’s Day by Satish Verma
- Discretion by Satish Verma
- Delinquency by Satish Verma
- Death In Exile by Satish Verma
- DEATH AND VISION by Satish Verma
- Cult of Lynching by Satish Verma
- Crowding by Satish Verma
- CROSSING THE DEAF by Satish Verma
- Courting Fidelity by Satish Verma
- Contraptions by Satish Verma
- Confessional Hurt by Satish Verma
- Commerce by Satish Verma
- Collecting Milkweed by Satish Verma
- BRAMBLE GATES by Satish Verma
- Botanically by Satish Verma
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)
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Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees
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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.