A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)
There is one God: Mahomed his Prophet. Had I his power
I would take the topmost peaks of the snow-clad Himalayas,
And would range them around your dwelling, during the heats of summer,
To cool the airs that fan your serene and delicate presence,
Had I the power.
Your courtyard should ever be filled with the fleetest of camels
Laden with inlaid armour, jewels and trappings for horses,
Ripe dates from Egypt, and spices and musk from Arabia.
And the sacred waters of Zem-Zem well, transported thither,
Should bubble and flow in your chamber, to bathe the delicate
Slender and wayworn feet of my Lord, returning from travel,
Had I the power.
Fine woven silk, from the further East, should conceal your beauty,
Clinging around you in amorous folds; caressive, silken,
Beautiful long-lashed, sweet-voiced Persian boys should, kneeling, serve you,
And the floor beneath your sandalled feet should be smooth and golden,
Had I the power.
And if ever your clear and stately thoughts should turn to women,
Kings’ daughters, maidens, should be appointed to your caresses,
That the youth and the strength of my Lord might never be wasted
In light or sterile love; but enrich the world with his children.
Had I the power.
Whilst I should sit in the outer court of the Water Palace
To await the time when you went forth, for Pleasure or Warfare,
Descending the stairs rose crowned, or armed and arrayed in purple,–
To mark the place where your steps have fallen, and kiss the footprints,
Had I the power.
A few random poems:
- To his Majestie by William Alexander
- Hyperion. Book I poem – John Keats poems
- Miracles by Paul Hostovsky
- Николай Языков – Я. П. Полонскому (Благодарю тебя за твой подарок милой…)
- I Hear America Singing. by Walt Whitman
- Федор Сологуб – Астероид
- Robert Burns: Here’s To Thy Health:
- The Lover Tells Of The Rose In His Heart by William Butler Yeats
- One Sweet White Light
- Scars on Paper by Marilyn Hacker
- Илья Эренбург – Я не трубач, труба
- Владимир Высоцкий – Холодно, метёт кругом
- English Poetry. Madison Julius Cawein. Going for the Cows. Мэдисон Джулиус Кавейн.
- The Gardener IV: Ah Me by Rabindranath Tagore
- Владимир Гиляровский – Чем дальше в море
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
- Как папа женился
- К той, что названа Кариной
- Как Лера чудо искала
- Как Муромец Илья когда-то
- Как на Масляной неделе
- К 8-му марта
- К нам приходит в день февральский снежною тропой
- Из головы у меня не выходишь
- Из всех искусств кинематограф
- Иван Варавва – Жаворонок
- Иван Варавва – В закубанском лесу
- Иван Варавва – Выйду в степь, на поля плодородные
- Иван Варавва – Раскинет объятия поле
- Иван Варавва – Соловей на веточке
- Иван Варавва – Кубань
- Иван Варавва – Мать Кубань
- Иван Варавва – На окраине села
- Иван Мятлев – Соловей
- Иван Мятлев – Старушка
- Иван Мятлев – Звезда
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.