_Bridegroom_
I give you my house and my lands, all golden with harvest;
My sword, my shield, and my jewels, the spoils of my strife,
My strength and my dreams, and aught I have gathered of glory,
And to-night–to-night, I shall give you my very life.
_Bride_
I may not raise my eyes, O my Lord, towards you,
And I may not speak: what matter? my voice would fail.
But through my dowacast lashes, feeling your beauty,
I shiver and burn with pleasure beneath my veil.
_Younger Sisters_
We throw sweet perfume upon her head,
And delicate flowers round her bed.
Ah, would that it were our turn to wed!
_Mother_
I see my daughter, vaguely, through my tears,
(Ah, lost caresses of my early years!)
I see the bridegroom, King of men in truth!
(Ah, my first lover, and my vanished youth!)
_Bride_
Almost I dread this night. My senses fail me.
How shall I dare to clasp a thing so dear?
Many have feared your name, but I your beauty.
Lord of my life, be gentle to my fear!
_Younger Sisters_
In the softest silk is our sister dressed,
With silver rubies upon her breast,
Where a dearer treasure to-night will rest.
_Dancing Girls_
See! his hair is like silk, and his teeth are whiter
Than whitest of jasmin flowers. Pity they marry him thus.
I would change my jewels against his caresses.
Verily, sisters, this marriage is greatly a loss to us!
_Bride_
Would that the music ceased and the night drew round us,
With solitude, shadow, and sound of closing doors,
So that our lips might meet and our beings mingle,
While mine drank deep of the essence, beloved, of yours.
_Passing mendicant_
Out of the joy of your marriage feast,
Oh, brothers, be good to me.
The way is long and the Shrine is far,
Where my weary feet would be.
And feasting is always somewhat sad
To those outside the door–
Still; Love is only a dream, and Life
Itself is hardly more!
A few random poems:
- The Dream by W H Auden
- Robert Burns: Ah, Woe Is Me, My Mother Dear: Paraphrase of Jeremiah, 15th Chap., 10th verse
- The Redbreast Chasing The Butterfly by William Wordsworth
- For the Men at the Front by John Oxenham
- Song—Behold, my love, how green the groves by Robert Burns
- Яков Полонский – После праздника
- Old And New by Rabindranath Tagore
- Lamia. Part I poem – John Keats poems
- Back From Australia poem – John Betjeman poems | Poems and Poetry
- The Woodlands by William Barnes
- Orlando Furioso Canto 10 by Ludovico Ariosto
- Ibant Obscur? by Thomas Edward Brown
- The Owl poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- Robert Burns: Hey, Ca’ Thro’ – Boat song:
- Жан де Лафонтен – Язычник и деревянный Идол
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
- The Jungle Flower
- The Hut
- The Hospital On The Shore
- The Garden Of Kama Kama The Indian Eros
- The Garden By The Bridge
- The First Wife
- The First Lover
- The Dying Prince
- The Convert
- The Cactus
- The Cactus Thicket
- The Bride
- The Aloe
- Syed Amir
- Surface Rights
- Surf Song
- Sunstroke
- Story Of Udaipore Told By Lalla Ji The Priest
- Story Of Lilavanti
- Story By Lalla Ji The Priest
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.