Gum Is The Sky

Glum is the sky, by night imprisoned,
As over it the dark clouds creep,
Not menacing or wistful is it,
But plunged in dreary, torpid sleep.
Alone the streaks of lightning, bursting
Through cloud and shadow, seem to be,
As they flare up and blaze, conversing
Like deaf-mute demons soundlessly.

As at a signal, for an instant
A strip of sky is lit, and Lo! -
From out the murk the forests distant
Emerge, set suddenly aglow.
But the light dies, the darkness fleeing
That cloaks the startled, wakeful sky,
And all is still... Is a plot being
Hatched in the silent wastes on high?..

poem by Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

I Love The Tsarskoselsky Gardens

I love the Tsarskoselsky Gardens
Late in the fall when, in soft haze
Enfolded, as in sleep's embrace
They lie... The cold's breath slowly hardens,
And on the dull glass of the lake,
Clad in that same fine haze, white-winged
And strangely languid visions linger
And seem bemused, but half-awake.

The skies are grey, by not a star lit...
The evening's shadows onward press
And softly lick the steps dark scarlet
Of Catherine's lofty palaces.
Then dark the gardens grow and dreamy,
The stars appear and turn a dome,
Outlined by them, into a gleam of
A golden past, its symbol lone...

poem by Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Say Not He Loves Me

Say not he loves me as before, as truly, dearly
As once he did... Oh no! My life
He would destroy, he does destroy - though see I clearly
The trembling of the hand that holds the knife.

Resentment, anger, tears, a pain now fierce, now muffled -
I'm wounded, stung, and yet I love... He is
All of my life, but I... I do not live - I suffer...
How bitter is existence such as this!

As to a mortal foe, in dozes scant and meagre
The air I breathe he measures out.. Each breath
I take is painful, yet... I breathe, for fresh air eager...
But life ... life slowly ebbs... I cannot ward off death.

poem by Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Why Moan, Why Wail You, Wind Of Night

Why moan, why wail you, wind of night,
With such despair, such frenzied madness?
Why is your voice now full of might,
Now piteous and tinged with sadness?
In tongue known to the heart, of pain
Unknown to it for ever chanting,
At times within it well-nigh frantic
Sounds you awaken and insane.

Sing not, O wind, your fearful song
Of chaos, for the hungry spirit,
Into night's world of shadows flung,
Exults in it and strains to hear it.
The bounds of mortal flesh 'twould fly
And merge with boundless ocean sweeping.
Take heed! Let slumbering tempests lie:
Beneath them chaos stirs unsleeping.

poem by Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

In ocean waves there's melody...

Est in arundineis modulatio musica ripis

In ocean waves there's melody
There's harmony within the clash of elements,
And a harmonious tuneful whisper
Streams through the rippling rushes.
There's unperturbable order everywhere,
Full consonance in nature,
And only our illusory freedom
Is out of tune with her.
Whence, how did this dischord arise?
And why, amidst the universal chorus,
Do human souls not sing as does the sea,
Why does the sentient reed sigh?
And from the earth unto the highest stars
Unanswered to this very day
A voice lamenting in the wilderness,
The soul protests despairingly?

poem by Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Spring Storm

I love a storm in early May
When springtime's boisterous, firstborn thunder
Over the sky will gaily wander
And growl and roar as though in play.

A peal, another - gleeful, cheering...
Rain, raindust... On the trees, behold!-
The drops hang, each a long pearl earring;
Bright sunshine paints the thin threads gold.

A stream downhill goes rushing reckless,
And in the woods the birds rejoice.
Din. Clamour. Noise. All nature echoes
The thunder's youthful, merry voice.

You'll say: 'Tis laughing, carefree Hebe -
She fed her father's eagle, and
The Storm Cup brimming with a seething
And bubbling wine dropped from her hand.

poem by Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Earth A Cheerless Look Still Wears

The earth a cheerless look still wears,
But spring's breath is already swaying
The dead stalks in the field and playing
With boughs as yet of leafage bare.
Though nature sleeps, through its dull slumber,
Through dreams that slowly fade away,
It hears spring's airy step and gay,
And, happy, smiles at the newcomer...

O soul, my soul, you slumbered too...
What is it that, your sleep disturbing,
Fills you with warmth and tender yearning
And gilds your tarnished dreams anew?

The thawing snows lie sparkling under
The sparkling sky: no clouds above.
My hot blood plays... Is it the languor
Of springtime or - a woman's love?..

poem by Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Silentium

Speak not, lie hidden, and conceal
the way you dream, the things you feel.
Deep in your spirit let them rise
akin to stars in crystal skies
that set before the night is blurred:
delight in them and speak no word.
How can a heart expression find?
How should another know your mind?
Will he discern what quickens you?
A thought once uttered is untrue.
Dimmed is the fountainhead when stirred:
drink at the source and speak no word.
Live in your inner self alone
within your soul a world has grown,
the magic of veiled thoughts that might
be blinded by the outer light,
drowned in the noise of day, unheard...
take in their song and speak no word.

poem by Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

To K.B.

You're here again - and of a sudden
A warmth long gone floods my dead heart,
And all I thought forgot, unbidden
Returns, of me becomes a part.

Just as spring's breath may soft come stealing
Upon the air on late fall's day
And rouse in us a vanished feeling
Of life, of something young and gay -

So of past years do I recover
The richness, and on your sweet face
With all the ardour of a lover
In reawakened rapture gaze.

Too long apart, drawn are we nearer
Once more - you're here, 'tis not a dream!
Sounds, ne'er within me stilled, the clearer
At sight of you and louder seem.

[...] Read more

poem by Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

All Day She Quiet Lay

All day she quiet lay, lost in a trance,
The closing shadows all of her embracing...
The madcap rain of summer frisked and pranced,
At leaves it drummed, down garden paths went racing.

And slowly, slowly she revived and sought
To hear its voice, its warm and merry patter.
Withdrawn she lay, plunged deep in conscious thought,
And listened to the rushing, singing water.

Then suddenly she sighed and spoke; I heard...
(I was alive, alive through force of habit)
The softly whispered, simple, broken words:
"O how I loved it all, O how I loved it!"

You loved... To love so well none ever durst...
Then, even such love fades, to be it ceases...
To watch you die, and live! How did my heart not burst,
Not break, O God, into a thousand pieces!

poem by Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!