A poem by Alexander Pope (1688-1744)
I.
In ev’ry Town, where Thamis rolls his Tyde,
A narrow pass there is, with Houses low;
Where ever and anon, the Stream is ey’d,
And many a Boat soft sliding to and fro.
There oft are heard the notes of Infant Woe,
The short thick Sob, loud Scream, and shriller Squall:
How can ye, Mothers, vex your Children so?
Some play, some eat, some cack against the wall,
And as they crouchen low, for bread and butter call.
II.
And on the broken pavement, here and there,
Doth many a stinking sprat and herring lie;
A brandy and tobacco shop is near,
And hens, and dogs, and hogs are feeding by;
And here a sailor’s jacket hangs to dry.
At ev’ry door are sun-burnt matrons seen,
Mending old nets to catch the scaly fry;
Now singing shrill, and scolding eft between;
Scolds answer foul-mouth’d scolds; bad neighbourhood I ween.
III.
The snappish cur, (the passengers’ annoy)
Close at my heel with yelping treble flies;
The whimp’ring girl, and hoarser-screaming boy,
Join to the yelping treble shrilling cries;
The scolding Quean to louder notes doth rise,
And her full pipes those shrilling cries confound;
To her full pipes the grunting hog replies;
The grunting hogs alarm the neighbours round,
And curs, girls, boys, and scolds, in the deep bass are drown’d.
IV.
Hard by a Sty, beneath a roof of thatch,
Dwelt Obloquy, who in her early days
Baskets of fish at Billingsgate did watch,
Cod, whiting, oyster, mackrel, sprat, or plaice:
There learn’d she speech from tongues that never cease.
Slander beside her, like a Mag-pie, chatters,
With Envy, (spitting Cat) dread foe to peace;
Like a curs’d Cur, Malice before her clatters,
And vexing ev’ry wight, tears clothes and all to tatters.
V.
Her dugs were mark’d by ev’ry Collier’s hand,
Her mouth was black as bull-dogs at the stall:
She scratch’d, bit, and spar’d ne lace ne band,
And bitch and rogue her answer was to all;
Nay, e’en the parts of shame by name would call:
Yea, when she passed by or lane or nook,
Would greet the man who turn’d him to the Wall,
And by his hand obscene the porter took,
Nor ever did askance like modest Virgin look.
VI.
Such place hath Deptford, navy-building town,
Woolwich and Wapping smelling strong of pitch;
Such Lambeth, envy of each band and gown,
And Twick’nam such, which fairer scenes enrich,
Grots, statues, urns, and Johnston’s Dog and Bitch,
Ne village is without, on either side,
All up the silver Thames, or all adown;
Ne Richmond’s self, from whose tall front are ey’d
Vales, spires, meandring streams, and Windsor’s tow’ry pride.
A few random poems:
- Think No More, Lad poem – A. E. Housman
- Какое это счастье – Материнство
- Desertion by Rupert Brooke
- Валерий Брюсов – И. Туманьяну надпись на книге (Да будет праведно возмездие)
- On A Thief (From The Greek) by William Cowper
- Robert Burns: Address To Edinburgh:
- A Song Of Autumn
- I Heard an Angel by William Blake
- Ольга Берггольц – 27 января 1945 года
- Olney Hymn 55: The Heart Healed And Changed By Mercy by William Cowper
- A Heart Divided by Pierre Reverdy
- Владимир Высоцкий – Вы в огне да и в море вовеки не сыщете брода
- Concealment
- Mark Twain and Joan of Arc by Vachel Lindsay
- Владимир Высоцкий – Долго же шёл ты, в конверте листок
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 Орлов – Летит корабль
- Владимир Орлов – Ковровые дорожки
- Владимир Орлов – Кому что снится?
- Владимир Орлов – Как Таппи научился лаять
- Владимир Орлов – Как появились ромашки
- Владимир Орлов – Где петушок носит гребешок
- Владимир Орлов – Дядя Миша на печи
- Владимир Орлов – Добрый день
- Владимир Орлов – Цветное молоко
- Владимир Орлов – Что нельзя купить
- Владимир Орлов – Белые стихи о черном пуделе
- Владимир Набоков – Забудешь ты меня, как эту ночь забудешь
- Владимир Набоков – Я на море гляжу из мраморного храма
- Владимир Набоков – Встреча
- Владимир Набоков – Воскресение мёртвых
- Владимир Набоков – Верба
- Владимир Набоков – Вдали от берега, в мерцании морском
- Владимир Набоков – В полнолунье, в гостиной пыльной и пышной
- Владимир Набоков – Ut pictura poesis
- Владимир Набоков – Ты многого, слишком ты многого хочешь
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
