A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)
There are no days for me any more, for the dawn is dark with tears,
There is no rest for me any more, for the night is thick with fears.
There are no flowers nor any fruit, for the sorrowful locusts came,
And the garden is but a memory, the vineyard only a name.
There is no light in the empty sky, no sail upon the sea,
Birds are yet on their nests perchance, but they sing no more to me.
Past–vanished–faded away–all the joys that were.
My youth died down in a swift decline when they married her to despair.
“My lord, the crowd in the Audience Hall; how long wilt thou have them wait?”
I have given my father’s younger son the guidance of the State.
“The steeds are saddled, the Captains call for the orders of the day.”
Tell them that I shall ride no more to the hunting or the fray.
“Sweet the scent of the Moghra flowers;” Brother, it may be so.
“The young, flushed spring is with us again.” Is it? I did not know.
“The Zamorin’s daughter draweth near, on slender golden feet;”
Oh, a curse upon all sweet things say I, to whom they are no more sweet!
Dost think that a man as sick as I can compass a woman’s ease?
That the sons of a man who is like to me could ever find rest or peace?
Tell them to marry them where they will, if their longing be so sore,
Such are the things that all men seek, but I shall seek no more.
All my muscles are fallen in, and the blood deserts my veins,
Every fibre and bone of me is waxen full of pains,
The iron feet of mine enemy’s curse are heavy upon my head,
Look at me and judge for thyself, thou seest I am but dead.
“Then, who is it, Prince, who has done this thing, has sown such a bitter seed,
That we hale him forth to the Market-place, bind him and let him bleed,
That the flesh may shudder and wince and writhe, reddening ‘neath the rod.”
Love is the evil-doer, alas! and how shalt thou scourge a God?
A few random poems:
- Sonnet to the Nightingale poem – John Milton poems
- Robert Burns: Song Composed In August:
- Death Divine by Nithin Purple
- It’s Beautiful to See Through the Eyes of the Sky by Walter William Safar
- Море волнуется, манит к себе
- Владимир Корнилов – Утро
- Bride and Groom Lie Hidden for Three Days by Ted Hughes
- Book First [Introduction-Childhood and School Time] by William Wordsworth
- Robert Burns: I Gaed A Waefu’ Gate Yestreen:
- The Princess: A Medley: Our Enemies have Fall’n poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- Ode On Indolence poem – John Keats poems
- He Remembers Forgotten Beauty by William Butler Yeats
- The Burial by Rudyard Kipling
- Poem Reaching For Something by Quincy Troupe
- A Work Of Artifice by Marge Piercy
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
- To A Little Girl That Has Told A Lie
- Guillaume de Lorris Belated: A Vision of Italy by Ezra Pound
- An Ode to the Democratic Rat
- Sonnet, an encyclopedic definition
- To A Feminist
- 对于女权主义者
- To the Rat’s Pencil
- 致老鼠的铅笔
- Toward Salvation
- My rat
- I Love My Rat
- 我爱我的老鼠
- Афанасий Фет – Сад весь в цвету
- Impostor’s Coronation
- Monster’s Cave
- 白色四月
- White April
- 我被包围了
- Surrounded
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.