"Farewell to barn and stack and tree,
Farewell to Severn shore.
Terence, look your last at me,
For I come home no more.
"The sun burns on the half-mown hill,
By now the blood is dried;
And Maurice amongst the hay lies still
And my knife is in his side.
......
Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.
......
The sun descending in the west,
The evening star does shine;
The birds are silent in their nest,
And I must seek for mine.
The moon, like a flower,
In heaven's high bower,
With silent delight
Sits and smiles on the night.
Farewell, green fields and happy groves,
......
All Things will Die
Clearly the blue river chimes in its flowing
Under my eye;
Warmly and broadly the south winds are blowing
Over the sky.
One after another the white clouds are fleeting;
Every heart this May morning in joyance is beating
......
The poplars are felled, farewell to the shade
And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade:
The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves,
Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives.
Twelve years have elapsed since I first took a view
Of my favourite field, and the bank where they grew,
And now in the grass behold they are laid,
And the tree is my seat that once lent me a shade.
......
The last tear fell
at the moment
you vanished from sight.
Silence remained
like a closed door
I could never pass through.
De laatste traan viel
op het moment
toen jij uit het zicht verdween.
De stilte bleef achter
als een gesloten deur
waar ik niet meer doorheen kon.
Die letzte Träne fiel
in dem Moment,
als du aus dem Blickfield
verschwandst.
Die Stille blieb zurück
wie eine verschlossene Tür,
durch die ich nie mehr gehen konnte.
The sky does not rise with joy today.
Its light breaks like glass on the edge
of the earth,
shattered by your silence.
The clouds move slowly,
as if carrying the weight of a name
no longer spoken.
Birds forget the direction of flight.
Even the wind loses interest in dancing.
......
After Christina Rossetti
Read me a poem
sing me a song
daylight is fading
soon I'll be gone-
......