We have left Gul Kach behind us,
Are marching on Apozai,–
Where pleasure and rest are waiting
To welcome us by and by.
We’re falling back from the Gomal,
Across the Gir-dao plain,
The camping ground is deserted,
We’ll never come back again.
Along the rocks and the defiles,
The mules and the camels wind.
Good-bye to Rahimut-Ullah,
The man who is left behind.
For some we lost in the skirmish,
And some were killed in the fight,
But he was captured by fever,
In the sentry pit, at night.
A rifle shot had been swifter,
Less trouble a sabre thrust,
But his Fate decided fever,
And each man dies as he must.
Behind us, red in the distance.
The wavering flames rise high,
The flames of our burning grass-huts,
Against the black of the sky.
We hear the sound of the river,
An ever-lessening moan,
The hearts of us all turn backwards
To where he is left alone.
We sing up a little louder,
We know that we feel bereft,
We’re leaving the camp together,
And only one of us left.
The only one, out of many,
And each must come to his end,
I wish I could stop this singing,
He happened to be my friend.
We’re falling back from the Gomal
We’re marching on Apozai,
And pleasure and rest are waiting
To welcome us by and by.
Perhaps the feast will taste bitter,
The lips of the girls less kind,–
Because of Rahimut-Ullah,
The man who is left behind!
A few random poems:
- Новелла Матвеева – Иней
- When I heard at the Close of the Day. by Walt Whitman
- This Evening Also by Paul Celan
- A Silence poem – Amy Clampitt poems | Poems and Poetry
- The missing pen by Ross D Tyler
- The Bridge by Shel Silverstein
- Death by Rainer Maria Rilke
- Robert Burns: Home.:
- Fidelity by William Wordsworth
- Walk with Me by Tammy L Ames
- No Return by William Matthews
- Ode On A Grecian Urn poem – John Keats poems
- Less Than The Cloud To The Wind by Sara Teasdale
- Николай Некрасов – Великодушный поступок
- Виталий Бакалдин – Я не рос среди берез
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
- In Praise Of England poem – Alfred Austin
- Impromptu: To Frances Garnet Wolseley poem – Alfred Austin
- “`If you were mine, if you were mine” poem – Alfred Austin
- If I To You But Sorry Bring poem – Alfred Austin
- I Chide Not At The Seasons poem – Alfred Austin
- Hymn To Death poem – Alfred Austin
- “Here, where the vine and fig bask hand in hand,” poem – Alfred Austin
- “Here have I learnt the little that I know” poem – Alfred Austin
- Grandmother’s Teaching poem – Alfred Austin
- Gleaners Of Fame poem – Alfred Austin
- “Give me October’s meditative haze” poem – Alfred Austin
- “Give me a roof where Wisdom dwells” poem – Alfred Austin
- “For where, beneath one’s parent sky” poem – Alfred Austin
- “`Father, farewell! Be not distressed” poem – Alfred Austin
- Farewell To Spring poem – Alfred Austin
- Farewell To Italy poem – Alfred Austin
- Dedication To The Edition Of 1876 To H.J.A. poem – Alfred Austin
- Dedication To Lady Windsor poem – Alfred Austin
- “`Covet who will the patronage of Kings ” poem – Alfred Austin
- “Could I but leave men wiser by my song ” poem – Alfred Austin
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.