After the Hazara War
I lie alone beneath the Almond blossoms,
Where we two lay together in the spring,
And now, as then, the mountain snows are melting,
This year, as last, the water-courses sing.
That was another spring, and other flowers,
Hung, pink and fragile, on the leafless tree,
The land rejoiced in other running water,
And I rejoiced, because you were with me.
You, with your soft eyes, darkly lashed and shaded,
Your red lips like a living, laughing rose,
Your restless, amber limbs so lithe and slender
Now lost to me. Gone whither no man knows.
You lay beside me singing in the sunshine;
The rough, white fur, unloosened at the neck,
Showed the smooth skin, fair as the Almond blossoms,
On which the sun could find no flaw or fleck.
I lie alone, beneath the Almond flowers,
I hated them to touch you as they fell.
And now, who killed you? worse, Ah, worse, who loves you?
(My soul is burning as men burn in Hell.)
How I have sought you in the crowded cities!
I have been mad, they say, for many days.
I know not how I came here, to the valley,
What fate has led me, through what doubtful ways.
Somewhere I see my sword has done good service,
Some one I killed, who, smiling, used your name,
But in what country? Nay, I have forgotten,
All thought is shrivelled in my heart’s hot flame.
Where are you now, Delight, and where your beauty,
Your subtle curls, and laughing, changeful face?
Bound, bruised and naked (dear God, grant me patience),
And sold in Cabul in the market-place.
I asked of you of all men. Who could tell me?
Among so many captured, sold, or slain,
What fate was yours? (Ah, dear God, grant me patience,
My heart is burnt, is burnt, with fire and pain.)
Oh, lost Delight! my heart is almost breaking,
My sword is broken and my feet are sore,
The people look at me and say in passing,
“He will not leave the village any more.”
For as the evening falls, the fever rises,
With frantic thoughts careering through the brain,
Wild thoughts of you. (Ah, dear God, grant me patience,
My soul is hurt beyond all men call pain.)
I lie alone, beneath the Almond blossoms,
And see the white snow melting on the hills
Till Khorassan is gay with water-courses,
Glad with the tinkling sound of running rills,
And well I know that when the fragile petals
Fall softly, ere the first green leaves appear,
(Ah, for these last few days, God, grant me patience,)
Since Delight is not, I shall not be, here!
A few random poems:
- Robert Burns: Jerusalem Tavern, Dumfries.: Inscription On A Goblet
- Lost poem – Alfred Austin
- Алишер Навои – Когда, тоскуя по тебе
- Robert Burns: Epitaph On John Rankine:
- Владимир Бенедиктов – Песнь соловья
- poetry_and_politics.html
- Шекспир – Люблю твои глаза – Сонет 132
- A Japanese Wood-Carving poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- An Untold Tale by Shahida Latif
- Godo Is Not Coming by Ndue Ukaj
- Down By The Salley Gardens by William Butler Yeats
- Владимир Маяковский – Профплакаты
- Otho The Great – Act III poem – John Keats poems
- Delia: An Ode by Robert Burns
- English Poetry. Philip James Bailey. Festus – 23.1. Филип Джеймс Бэйли.
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 Маяковский – Смотри, крестьянин (РОСТА №463)
- Владимир Маяковский – Смотри, чтоб праздник перешел и в будни
- Владимир Маяковский – Служака
- Владимир Маяковский – Слушай, шахтер!.. (РОСТА №843)
- Владимир Маяковский – Слушай, наводчик
- Владимир Маяковский – Слово “Товарищ” говоришь ты?! (РОСТА №449)
- Владимир Маяковский – Слегка нахальные стихи товарищам из ЭМКАХИ
- Владимир Маяковский – Славянский вопрос-то решается просто
- Владимир Маяковский – Сказка про купцову нацию, мужика и кооперацию
- Владимир Маяковский – Сказка о Пете, толстом ребенке, и о Симе, который тонкий
- Владимир Маяковский – Сказка о красной шапочке
- Владимир Маяковский – Сказка для шахтера-друга про шахтерки, чуни и каменный уголь
- Владимир Маяковский – Шумики, шумы и шумищи
- Владимир Маяковский – Шляпами панов не забить… (РОСТА №222)
- Владимир Маяковский – Шестой
- Владимир Маяковский – Севастопольский корреспондент “Матен” сообщает… (РОСТА №507)
- Владимир Маяковский – Серые! К вам орем вниз мы… (РОСТА №313)
- Владимир Маяковский – Сердитый дядя
- Владимир Маяковский – Селькор
- Владимир Маяковский – Сейчас беднее нас нет… (РОСТА №742)
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.