This channel is my personal archive. I post English poems/part of poems that I like from different writers and genres *mostly Shakespeare*. I hope this way it'll evoke your interest towards literature and have fun!
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English Poems
May 23, 2026, 06:20 AM
The flakes are delicately landing on the surface of things, cover the infinite,
permeate the world of their absolute whiteness to the bottom of our ivory hearts.
There is no more paradise or hell. Tomorrow, dogs will be silent. Volcanoes will sleep. The people will vote white. Our ghosts in wedding dress will wander in the street frost. We will be immortal.
#war #melancholy #death
—Extract from Petit pays (Gaël Faye) Translated
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English Poems
May 23, 2026, 06:20 AM
Where does the river come from?
And the eel, the night-mind of water 一
The river within the river and opposite -
The night-nerve of water?
Not from the earth's remembering mire
Not from the air's whim
Not from the brimming sun. Where from?
From the bottom of the nothing pool Sargasso of God
Out of the empty spiral of stars
A glimmering person
#poem #cheating #love #nature
-Catadrome, By Ted Hughes
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English Poems
May 23, 2026, 06:20 AM
I saw the peaceful image of Papa and Ana lying on the bed, in front of the television. The image of their innocence, of all the innocences in this world struggling to walk on the edge of abysses. And I felt sorry for them, for myself, for the purity ruined by the all-consuming fear that transforms everything into malice, hatred, death. Into lava. Everything was or around me, the vociferations grew louder. The man in the taxi was a nearly dead horse. If there is no sanctuary on earth, is there one elsewhere?
#Innocence #death #war
—Extract from Petit pays (Gaël Faye) Translated
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English Poems
May 23, 2026, 06:20 AM
Peace, tender sapling. Thou art made of tears,
And tears will quickly melt thy life away
#play #love #langauge
— From Titus Andronicus
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English Poems
May 23, 2026, 06:20 AM
Why so many candles, these faces above me?
No more harm shall ever meet my body.
Everyone is standing - while here alone I lie -
Grieving, feigning. One must be true when one must die.
And so, buried under these wreathes of leaves, I lie -
Solemnly - Agelessly - Solitarily.
Death, gone silent, once again rushes to my head,
Though by now I know all comprehension is dead.
How I loathe to become accustomed to this grave, To be what I once was - that is all I crave.
#poem #death #melancholy #identity
Poem by Bolesław Leśmian, Translated by Stefano Salsicciao
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English Poems
May 23, 2026, 06:20 AM
PARTING
Three hundred nights like three hundred walls must rise between my love and me
and the sea will be a black art between us.
Time with a hard hand will tear out the streets tangled in my breast. Nothing will be left but memories.
(O afternoons earned with suffering, nights hoping for the sight of you, dejected vacant lots, poor sky shamed in the bottom of the puddles like a fallen angel....
And your life that graces my desire
and that run-down and lighthearted neighborhood shining today in the glow of my love....)
Final as a statue
your absence will sadden other fields.
#poem #love #melancholy
Poem by Jorge Borges, Translated by [W. S. Merwin]
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English Poems
May 23, 2026, 06:20 AM
If there were reason for these miseries,
Then into limits could I bind my woes.
When heaven doth weep, doth not the Earth o’erflow?
If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad,
Threat’ning the welkin with his big-swoll’n face?
And wilt thou have a reason for this coil?
I am the sea. Hark how her sighs doth flow!
She is the weeping welkin, I the Earth.
Then must my sea be moved with her sighs;
Then must my Earth with her continual tears
Become a deluge, overflowed and drowned,
Forwhy my bowels cannot hide her woes
But like a drunkard must I vomit them.
Then give me leave, for losers will have leave
To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues.
#play #shakespeare #melacholy
— Titus Andronicus
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English Poems
May 23, 2026, 06:20 AM
when no friends are by, men praise themselves.
— from Titus Andronicus
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English Poems
May 23, 2026, 06:20 AM
Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopped,
Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is.
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English Poems
May 23, 2026, 06:20 AM
AARON, aside
Pray to the devils; the gods have given us over.
#play #shakespeare #god #sin
— from Titus Andronicus
