Reverie Of Mahomed Akram At The Tamarind Tank

A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)

The Desert is parched in the burning sun

And the grass is scorched and white.

But the sand is passed, and the march is done,

We are camping here to-night.

I sit in the shade of the Temple walls,

While the cadenced water evenly falls,

And a peacock out of the Jungle calls

To another, on yonder tomb.

Above, half seen, in the lofty gloom,

Strange works of a long dead people loom,

Obscene and savage and half effaced–

An elephant hunt, a musicians’ feast–

And curious matings of man and beast;

What did they mean to the men who are long since dust?

Whose fingers traced,

In this arid waste,

These rioting, twisted, figures of love and lust.

Strange, weird things that no man may say,

Things Humanity hides away;–

Secretly done,–

Catch the light of the living day,

Smile in the sun.

Cruel things that man may not name,

Naked here, without fear or shame,

Laughed in the carven stone.

Deep in the Temple’s innermost Shrine is set,

Where the bats and shadows dwell,

The worn and ancient Symbol of Life, at rest

In its oval shell,

By which the men, who, of old, the land possessed,

Represented their Great Destroying Power.

I cannot forget

That, just as my life was touching its fullest flower,

Love came and destroyed it all in a single hour,

Therefore the dual Mystery suits me well.

Sitting alone,

The tank’s deep water is cool and sweet,

Soothing and fresh to the wayworn feet,

Dreaming, under the Tamarind shade,

One silently thanks the men who made

So green a place in this bitter land

Of sunburnt sand.

The peacocks scream and the grey Doves coo,

Little green, talkative Parrots woo,

And small grey Squirrels, with fear askance,

At alien me, in their furtive glance,

Come shyly, with quivering fur, to see

The stranger under their Tamarind tree.

Daylight dies,

The Camp fires redden like angry eyes,

The Tents show white,

In the glimmering light,

Spirals of tremulous smoke arise, to the purple skies,

And the hum of the Camp sounds like the sea,

Drifting over the sand to me.

Afar, in the Desert some wild voice sings

To a jangling zither with minor strings,

And, under the stars growing keen above,

I think of the thing that I love.

A beautiful thing, alert, serene,

With passionate, dreaming, wistful eyes,

Dark and deep as mysterious skies,

Seen from a vessel at sea.

Alas, you drifted away from me,

And Time and Space have rushed in between,

But they cannot undo the Thing-that-has-been,

Though it never again may be.

You were mine, from dusk until dawning light,

For the perfect whole of that bygone night

You belonged to me!

They say that Love is a light thing,

A foolish thing and a slight thing,

A ripe fruit, rotten at core;

They speak in this futile fashion

To me, who am wracked with passion,

Tormented beyond compassion,

For ever and ever more.

They say that Possession lessens a lover’s delight,

As radiant mornings fade into afternoon.

I held what I loved in my arms for many a night,

Yet ever the morning lightened the sky too soon.

Beyond our tents the sands stretch level and far,

Around this little oasis of Tamarind trees.

A curious, Eastern fragrance fills the breeze

From the ruinous Temple garden where roses are.

I dream of the rose-like perfume that fills your hair,

Of times when my lips were free of your soft closed eyes,

While down in the tank the waters ripple and rise

And the flying foxes silently cleave the air.

The present is subtly welded into the past,

My love of you with the purple Indian dusk,

With its clinging scent of sandal incense and musk,

And withering jasmin flowers.

My eyes grow dim and my senses fail at last,

While the lonely hours

Follow each other, silently, one by one,

Till the night is almost done.

Then weary, and drunk with dreams, with my garments damp

And heavy with dew, I wander towards the camp.

Tired, with a brain in which fancy and fact are blent,

I stumble across the ropes till I reach my tent

And then to rest. To ensweeten my sleep with lies,

To dream I lie in the light of your long lost eyes,

My lips set free.

To love and linger over your soft loose hair–

To dream I lay your delicate beauty bare

To solace my fevered eyes.

Ah,–if my life might end in a night like this–

Drift into death from dreams of your granted kiss!

Poetry Monster – Home

A few random poems:

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 

• Алексей Николаевич Толстой – Дафнис подслушивает сов by Алексей Толстой
• Толстой Алексей Николаевич стихи: Читать стихотворения Алексея Толстого – Список произведений, стихов поэта на Poetry Monster by Алексей Толстой
• The Hecatomb to his Mistress by John Cleveland by John Cleveland
• To the State of Love. Or the Senses’ Festival. By John Cleveland by John Cleveland
• I love you by Александр Башлачёв
• A Human Being Needs Strong Tea by Поэзия На Русском
• Dog racing by Поэзия На Русском
• Dissolve in kisses, I would like to dissolve in your kisses by Поэзия На Русском
• Tale of the Pope and of His Workman Balda by Александр Пушкин
• Who of you ever by Поэзия На Русском
• Аnything can happen by Fledermaus
• Outside the Window, Snow by Поэзия На Русском
• You must once by Поэзия На Русском
• February 23 by Поэзия На Русском
• May 19th – the Young Pioneers Day by Поэзия На Русском
• Море волнуется, манит к себе by Поэзия На Русском
• Море огней украшает причалы, вокзалы by Поэзия На Русском
• Кипение by Поэзия На Русском
• Каждому сроку – свой путь by Поэзия На Русском
• Каждый день и каждый миг судьбу благодарю by Поэзия На Русском

More external links (open in a new tab):

Russian Commerce Agency

Dealing Monster

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

Poems by Author and Category

The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works