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[avrelia]

In case you were wondered what the previous post was about, here is the story: I found a cool website www.oldpoetry.com with a huge selection of poets – in English and translated form other languages. I cannot guarantee the quality of translation, but it seemed good enough at the first glance.

Here is the poem that left me giggling - guess, why?

by Walter de la Mare

The abode of the nightingale is bare,
Flowered frost congeals in the gelid air,
The fox howls from his frozen lair:
Alas, my loved one is gone,
I am alone:
It is winter.

Once the pink cast a winy smell,
The wild bee hung in the hyacinth bell,
Light in effulgence of beauty fell:
I am alone:
It is winter.

My candle a silent fire doth shed,
Starry Orion hunts o'erhead;
Come moth, come shadow, the world is dead:
Alas, my loved one is gone,
I am alone;
It is winter.

And here is one by my favourite Robert Burns:



Talk not of love, it gives me pain,
For love has been my foe;
He bound me in an iron chain,
And plung'd me deep in woe.

But friendship's pure and lasting joys,
My heart was form'd to prove;
There, welcome win and wear the prize,
But never talk of love.

Your friendship much can make me blest,
O why that bliss destroy?
Why urge the only, one request
You know I will deny?

Your thought, if Love must harbour there,
Conceal it in that thought;
Nor cause me from my bosom tear
The very friend I sought.

And another one:



Oh my luve is like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June:
Oh my luve is like the melodie,
That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.


And fare thee weel, my only luve!
And fare thee weel a while!
And I will come again, my luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile!

Comments

[sweet-ali.livejournal.com]

I really love the second, and the last is so fun to read out loud.

[avrelia.livejournal.com]

I am glad you like it. I love Robert Burns dearly, even though I have lots of troubles reading though his Scottish expressions. But the spirit draws me in every time, so the troubles are worth it.