All poems

You circle the words not knowing how to explain it

Meu amor, eu nunca escrevi poesia, mas por ti escrevo pois em ti há tudo que eu queria. Minha vida contigo só vai para o melhor, e contigo ao meu lado não tenho medo de nenhuma tempestade e nenhum tremor.

You talk like you feel something.

The house is silent. The house is as quiet

With solitude I wish to part ways But in her arms I wish to stay…

In your own silent world, the peace is warm

I You are clear

The kite flies in the self-same spot Of sky where yesterday it flew.

In days of doubt, in days of dreary musings on my country's fate, thou alone art my stay and support, mighty, true, free Russian speech!

I know Not these my hands

Let not young souls be smothered out before They do quaint deeds and fully flaunt their pride.

Soon as the sun forsook the eastern main The pealing thunder shook the heav'nly plain;

The Poplars are fell'd, farewell to the shade And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade,

Forget thy affliction, and cease supplication, Recall thy release from Egyptian rod,

We started speaking, Looked at each other, then turned away.

There was an Old Man with a beard, Who said, "It is just as I feared!—

So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, that moves

The sky-blue smiles above the roof Its tenderest;

Do you ask what the birds say? The Sparrow, the Dove, The Linnet and Thrush say, "I love and I love!"

The glory of the day was in her face, The beauty of the night was in her eyes.

Greatly shining, The Autumn moon floats in the thin sky;

Call the roller of big cigars, The muscular one, and bid him whip

One ship drives east and another drives west With the selfsame winds that blow.

The autumn comes, a maiden fair In slenderness and grace,

I had come to the house, in a cave of trees, Facing a sheer sky.

In Spring of love and life, My Polish Rose, You faded and forgot the joy of youth;

Late-born and woman-souled I dare not hope, The freshness of the elder lays, the might

Man is a rope stretched between the animal and the Superman—a rope over an abyss. A dangerous crossing, a dangerous wayfaring, a dangerous looking-back, a dangerous trembling and halting.

In my life, too full of shadows, Beamed a lovely vision bright.

Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows:

"Good-morning; good-morning!" the General said When we met him last week on our way to the line.

My life has been the poem I would have writ, But I could not both live and utter it.

Time is the root of all this earth; These creatures, who from Time had birth,

We were very tired, we were very merry— We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry.

Oh! when I sleep, come near my resting-place, As Laura came to bless her poet's heart,

My tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the sky; It's time to take the window to see Leerie going by;

Under a splintered mast, torn from ship and cast

Whenas in silks my Julia goes, Then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows

In a dream, I crossed from my bed to his.

'Twas mercy brought me from my Pagan land, Taught my benighted soul to understand

I have now understood that though it seems to men that they live by care for themselves,

losing in pages nowadays writing some poems

i melt whenever i see your face

See lightning is flashing, The forest is crashing,

Night’s darkness o’er the forest creeps; Of a safe guide I am bereft;

A man said to the universe: "Sir, I exist!"

How doth the little crocodile Improve his shining tail,

There shall be couches whence faint odours rise, Divans like sepulchres, deep and profound;

They are all gone away, The House is shut and still,

And what avails it then that Man be born To joy or sorrow?—why rejoice or mourn?