Vayu The Wind

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.

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Poems in English 

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• Кондратий Рылеев – Не вчера ли в хороводе by Кондратий Рылеев
• Кондратий Рылеев – Н. М. Тевяшовой на предложение ее, дабы я написал стихи на Надежду by Кондратий Рылеев
• Кондратий Рылеев – Мне тошно здесь, как на чужбине by Кондратий Рылеев
• Кондратий Рылеев – Меня пленяли наши деды by Кондратий Рылеев
• Кондратий Рылеев – Людмила by Кондратий Рылеев
• Кондратий Рылеев – Любовь к отчизне by Кондратий Рылеев
• Кондратий Рылеев – Луна by Кондратий Рылеев
• Кондратий Рылеев – Князю Смоленскому by Кондратий Рылеев
• Кондратий Рылеев – Как солнце ни блестит и как оно ни светит by Кондратий Рылеев
• Кондратий Рылеев – К портрету by Кондратий Рылеев
• Кондратий Рылеев – К Надежде by Кондратий Рылеев
• Кондратий Рылеев – К N. N. (У вас в гостях бывать накладно) by Кондратий Рылеев
• Кондратий Рылеев – К N. N. (Когда душа изнемогала) by Кондратий Рылеев
• Кондратий Рылеев – К Фролову by Кондратий Рылеев
• Кондратий Рылеев – К Делии by Кондратий Рылеев
• Кондратий Рылеев – Извинение перед Н.М. Тевяшовой by Кондратий Рылеев
• Кондратий Рылеев – Из письма к Булгарину by Кондратий Рылеев
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• Иван Крылов – Ода, выбранная из псалма 71-го by Иван Крылов

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