How I loved you in your sleep,
With the starlight on your hair!
The touch of your lips was sweet,
Aziza whom I adore,
As I lay at your slender feet,
And against their soft palms pressed,
I fitted my face to rest.
As winds blow over the sea
From Citron gardens ashore,
Came, through your scented hair,
The breeze of the night to me.
My lips grew arid and dry,
My nerves were tense,
Though your beauty soothe the eye
It maddens the sense.
Every curve of that beauty is known to me,
Every tint of that delicate roseleaf skin,
And these are printed on ever atom of me,
Burnt in on every fibre until I die.
And for this, my sin,
I doubt if ever, though dust I be,
The dust will lose the desire,
The torment and hidden fire,
Of my passionate love for you.
Aziza whom I adore,
My dust will be full of your beauty, as is the blue
And infinite ocean full of the azure sky.
In the light that waxed and waned
Playing about your slumber in silver bars,
As the palm trees swung their feathery fronds athwart the stars,
How quiet and young you were,
Pale as the Champa flowers, violet veined,
That, sweet and fading, lay in your loosened hair.
How sweet you were in your sleep,
With the starlight on your hair!
Your throat thrown backwards, bare,
And touched with circling moonbeams, silver white
On the couch’s sombre shade.
O Aziza my one delight,
When Youth’s passionate pulses fade,
And his golden heart beats slow,
When across the infinite sky
I see the roseate glow
Of my last, last sunset flare,
I shall send my thoughts to this night
And remember you as I die,
The one thing, among all the things of this earth, found fair.
How sweet you were in your sleep,
With the starlight, silver and sable, across your hair!
A few random poems:
- Yesterday’s Mishaps by Mary Etta Metcalf
- Jobless by Rashmi
- Robert Burns: Behold The Hour, The Boat, Arrive:
- Степан Щипачев – Голос
- Jewels Should Sparkle Daily by Ronald G. Auguste
- Hot and Cold by Roald Dahl
- Владимир Высоцкий – Запись в книге почётных гостей Киевского завода шампанских вин
- Lucky by Thomas Lux
- An Indian Summer Day on the Prarie by Vachel Lindsay
- The Gardener LXIV: I Spent My Day by Rabindranath Tagore
- Waiting For The Beloved — English Translation by Rabindranath Tagore
- Sonet 48 by William Alexander
- Impresa by Satish Verma
- A Grace after Dinner by Robert Burns
- Pathos Is The Skyward Tanka
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
- Олег Бундур – Дедушка воспитывает папу
- Олег Бундур – Дедушка
- Олег Бундур – Что будет, если
- Олег Бундур – Чем пахнет мама
- Олег Бундур – Чайковский
- Олег Бундур – Быстро расту
- Олег Бундур – Будильник
- Олег Бундур – Босиком
- Олег Бундур – Ближе к снегу
- Олег Бундур – Без меня
- Олег Бундур – Бесконечность
- Олег Бундур – Барашки
- Олег Бундур – Бабушка под зонтиком
- Олег Бундур – Август
- Олег Бундур – Аппетит
- Олег Бундур – А мне-то ничего
- Олег Бундур – 1 сентября
- Ок Мельникова – Заповедь номер одиннадцать
- Ок Мельникова – Всё будет
- Ок Мельникова – Вечные ценности
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.