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:
- Федор Сологуб – Словно лепится сурепица
- Ольга Седакова – Три зеркала
- A Dialogue Of Self And Soul by William Butler Yeats
- You by Thonda Sri Indrani
- In Memoriam A. H. H.: 22. The path by which we twain did go poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- Омар Хайям – Кому там от Любви покой необходим
- Robert Burns: Whistle O’er The Lave O’t:
- The Bell Buoy by Rudyard Kipling
- Аля Кудряшева – Октябрь был дождем, непонятным месяцем
- When I Looked At You by Patrick Neo Mabiletsa
- Владимир Маяковский – Польша
- Proclamation Without Pretension by Tristan Tzara
- Singer in the Prison, The. by Walt Whitman
- Robert Burns: Inscription: Written on the blank leaf of a copy of the last edition of my poems, presented to the Lady whom, in so many fictitious reveries of passion, but with the most ardent sentiments of real friendship, I have so often sung under the name of-“Chloris.”
- The Hands That Hang Down
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
- Владимир Ступкин – Тоска
- Владимир Маринин – К нам тётя соседка заходит на чай
- Владимир Макуров – Бумажный самолёт
- Владимир Луговской – Звезда (Я знаю ты любишь меня)
- Владимир Луговской – Жестокое пробужденье
- Владимир Луговской – Ты руку на голову мне положила
- Владимир Луговской – Та, которую я знал
- Владимир Луговской – Спасибо
- Владимир Луговской – Севастополь
- Владимир Луговской – Радость
- Владимир Луговской – Повелитель бумаги
- Владимир Луговской – Почтовый переулок
- Владимир Луговской – Пила
- Владимир Луговской – Первый снег
- Владимир Луговской – Пепел
- Владимир Луговской – Остролистник
- Владимир Луговской – Обращение
- Владимир Луговской – Ночной патруль
- Владимир Луговской – Мертвый хватает живого
- Владимир Луговской – Мальчики играют на горе
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.