"skylark" poems
A Red, Red Rose
by Robert Burns
translation/interpretation/modernization by Michael R. Burch
Oh, my love is like a red, red rose
that's newly sprung in June
and my love is like the melody
that's sweetly played in tune.
And you're so fair, my lovely lass,
and so deep in love am I,
that I will love you still, my dear,
till all the seas run dry.
Till all the seas run dry, my dear,
and the rocks melt with the sun!
And I will love you still, my dear,
while the sands of life shall run.
And fare you well, my only love!
And fare you well, awhile!
And I will come again, my love,
though it were ten thousand miles!
Keywords/Tags: Robert Burns, red, rose, translation, modernization, update, interpretation, modern English, melody, tune, seas, dry, rocks, melt, sun, ten thousand miles
Original Scots Dialect Poem:
A Red, Red Rose
by Robert Burns
O my Luve is like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve is like the melody
That’s sweetly played in tune.
So fair art thou, my bonnie 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;
I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only luve!
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my luve,
Though it were ten thousand mile.
Hugh MacDiarmid wrote "The Watergaw" in a Scots dialect. I have translated the poem into modern English to make it easier to read and understand. A watergaw is a fragmentary rainbow.
The Watergaw
by Hugh MacDiarmid
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
One wet forenight in the sheep-shearing season
I saw the uncanniest thing—
a watergaw with its wavering light
shining beyond the wild downpour of rain ...
and I thought of the last wild look that you gave
when you knew you were destined for the grave.
There was no light in the skylark's nest
that night—no—nor any in mine;
but now often I've thought of that foolish light
and of these more foolish hearts of men ...
and I think that maybe at last I ken
what your look meant then.
Keywords/Tags: Scotland, Scot, Scottish, Scots dialect, night, nightfall, rain, grave, death, death of a friend, light, lights, watergaw, heart, heartache, broken heart, heart song
Apr 19, 2020
Apr 19, 2020 at 11:10 PM UTC
"And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest."
The earth was green, the sky was blue:
I saw and heard one sunny morn
A skylark hang between the two,
A singing speck above the corn;
A stage below, in gay accord,
White butterflies danced on the wing,
And still the singing skylark soared
And silent sank, and soared to sing.
The cornfield stretched a tender green
To right and left beside my walks;
I knew he had a nest unseen
Somewhere among the million stalks:
And as I paused to hear his song
While swift the sunny moments slid,
Perhaps his mate sat listening long,
And listened longer than I did.
16.1k
The sunrise wakes the lark to sing,
The moonrise wakes the nightingale.
Come darkness, moonrise, every thing
That is so silent, sweet, and pale:
Come, so ye wake the nightingale.
Make haste to mount, thou wistful moon,
Make haste to wake the nightingale:
Let silence set the world in tune
To hearken to that wordless tale
Which warbles from the nightingale
O herald skylark, stay thy flight
One moment, for a nightingale
Floods us with sorrow and delight.
To-morrow thou shalt hoist the sail;
Leave us to-night the nightingale.
11.8k
Then a lawyer said, "But what of our Laws, master?"
And he answered:
You delight in laying down laws,
Yet you delight more in breaking them.
Like children playing by the ocean who build sand-towers with
constancy and then destroy them with laughter.
But while you build your sand-towers the ocean brings more sand to the shore,
And when you destroy them, the ocean laughs with you.
Verily the ocean laughs always with the innocent.
But what of those to whom life is not an ocean, and man-made laws are
not sand-towers,
But to whom life is a rock, and the law a chisel with which they
would carve it in their own likeness?
What of the ******* who hates dancers?
What of the ox who loves his yoke and deems the elk and deer of the
forest stray and vagrant things?
What of the old serpent who cannot shed his skin, and calls all
others naked and shameless?
And of him who comes early to the wedding-feast, and when over-fed
and tired goes his way saying that all feasts are violation and all
feasters law-breakers?
What shall I say of these save that they too stand in the sunlight,
but with their backs to the sun?
They see only their shadows, and their shadows are their laws.
And what is the sun to them but a caster of shadows?
And what is it to acknowledge the laws but to stoop down and trace
their shadows upon the earth?
But you who walk facing the sun, what images drawn on the earth can hold you?
You who travel with the wind, what weathervane shall direct your course?
What man's law shall bind you if you break your yoke but upon no
man's prison door?
What laws shall you fear if you dance but stumble against no man's
iron chains?
And who is he that shall bring you to judgment if you tear off your
garment yet leave it in no man's path?
People of Orphalese, you can muffle the drum, and you can loosen the
strings of the lyre, but who shall command the skylark not to sing?
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O happy rose-bud blooming
Upon thy parent tree,--
Nay, thou art too presuming;
For soon the earth entombing
Thy faded charms shall be,
And the chill damp consuming.
O happy skylark springing
Up to the broad blue sky,
Too fearless in thy winging,
Too gladsome in thy singing,
Thou also soon shalt lie
Where no sweet notes are ringing.
And through life's shine and shower
We shall have joy and pain;
But in the summer bower,
And at the morning hour,
We still shall look in vain
For the same bird and flower.
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As late I rambled in the happy fields,
What time the skylark shakes the tremulous dew
From his lush clover covert;—when anew
Adventurous knights take up their dinted shields;
I saw the sweetest flower wild nature yields,
A fresh-blown musk-rose; 'twas the first that threw
Its sweets upon the summer: graceful it grew
As is the wand that Queen Titania wields.
And, as I feasted on its fragrancy,
I thought the garden-rose it far excelled;
But when, O Wells! thy roses came to me,
My sense with their deliciousness was spelled:
Soft voices had they, that with tender plea
Whispered of peace, and truth, and friendliness unquelled.
3.8k
In sunny solitude
The swelling seas
Erase the bank of haze
Birds begin to sing
A skylark soars in the air
Purple hills of paradise
No longer dampened souls
Tossing and turning in the night
Pearl white peaks
Hypnotize across the planet
The color of strength
Of a rainbow myriad
Green cascading canopies
No longer drinking
Nature’s tears away
With fluorescent green
Humming birds
Under the turquoise sky
The vintage rustic vines
Are revived to a new life
Rejoicing hearts
Of amethysts and emeralds
Are awakened from
The breeze of heaven
Vines whisper in awe
Her sun
Sky sweet bliss
Fountain overflows
To twilight shade
Robed fields of gold
Her young berries
Plump and iridescent
Until harvest comes
She will say goodbye
And again renew
Jul 31, 2010
Jul 31, 2010 at 5:47 PM UTC
Its Christmas! Its Christmas!
The skies have early said,
As the winter brings the bliss
Of berries blue and red;
The dew that chanted the tale of his birth
Gleamed in the palm of the lotus leaf;
The flower which stood for his grace on earth
Spread their aroma to void all grief;
Its Christmas! Its Christmas!
The skies have early said,
As the winter brings the bliss
Of berries blue and red;
Loud and clear, the skylark sings,
A cluster full of joy it brings;
Dancing in glee, the tulips many,
Clouds and mountains too join the symphony;
Its Christmas! Its Christmas!
The skies have early said,
As the winter brings the bliss
Of berries blue and red;
-Anil Kumar A R
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC
Coastline, rocky, rugged, proud,
Crumbling cliffs in ozone shroud,
Sun-kissed drifts of desert sand,
Golden frame of a sea cradled land.
Fishing village, atmospheric hub,
Brass band playing, outside quaint old pub,
Boats, all sizes, rest near harbour wall,
Wading birds sift through tide-filled pool.
Foliage explosion of a Cornish hedge,
Country lanes snake, and young birds fledge,
Ruminants, punctuating, quilted hill,
Buzzards soar and wise hares are still.
Tin mine engine house, towering stack,
Roof caved in, gorse and bracken’s back,
White clay peak, geometrical and sleek,
Earth’s riches gouged, canyon deep.
Moor-land, open, untamed, granite strewn,
Wild ponies dance to a skylark’s tune,
Tor and beacon, barrow and mound,
You’re in God’s own country, when you walk this ground.
Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 5:05 AM UTC
Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky!
Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound?
Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye
Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground?
Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will,
Those quivering wings composed, that music still!
Leave to the nightingale her shady wood;
A privacy of glorious light is thine;
Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood
Of harmony, with instinct more divine;
Type of the wise who soar, but never roam;
True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home!
3.2k
Now the golden Morn aloft
Waves her dew-bespangled wing,
With vermeil cheek and whisper soft
She wooes the tardy Spring:
Till April starts, and calls around
The sleeping fragrance from the ground,
And lightly o’er the living scene
Scatters his freshest, tenderest green.
New-born flocks, in rustic dance,
Frisking ply their feeble feet;
Forgetful of their wintry trance
The birds his presence greet:
But chief, the skylark warbles high
His trembling thrilling ecstasy;
And, lessening from the dazzled sight,
Melts into air and liquid light.
Yesterday the sullen year
Saw the snowy whirlwind fly;
Mute was the music of the air,
The herd stood drooping by:
Their raptures now that wildly flow
No yesterday nor morrow know;
’Tis Man alone that joy descries
With forward and reverted eyes.
Smiles on past Misfortune’s brow
Soft Reflection’s hand can trace,
And o’er the cheek of Sorrow throw
A melancholy grace;
While Hope prolongs our happier hour,
Or deepest shades, that dimly lour
And blacken round our weary way,
Gilds with a gleam of distant day.
Still, where rosy Pleasure leads
See a kindred Grief pursue;
Behind the steps that Misery treads
Approaching Comfort view:
The hues of bliss more brightly glow
Chastised by sabler tints of woe,
And blended form, with artful strife,
The strength and harmony of life.
See the wretch that long has tost
On the thorny bed of pain,
At length repair his vigour lost,
And breathe and walk again:
The meanest floweret of the vale,
The simplest note that swells the gale,
The common sun, the air, the skies,
To him are opening Paradise.
3.2k
It is docking it is tocking in the winter garden locking
over still and heavy knocking that defies the very dew.
We see storms and angels crumbling under load of dearest kindling and the fire and gases burning in the skies where clouds are churning and the snow, hail, sleet, and ices come to split the air in slices as it settles over houses, villages, shoes.
Waiting huddling drawing the blankets hot and heavy with a fear of powerful nature in the windy savory few.
Now we see and hear the howling like a wolf entangles scowling as she tries to say her fowl and angry message to the blew.
I am never quite so settled as when all around me crumbles and the anger of the desert makes the inner anger moot.
And the people seem to gather in their individual lathers but they all believe the madness that the storm will never pass. But pass it does and finding with the dawn a calm descending, yes, a calm that is so different that it seems to crush our ears. We are happy to look outward and even hear a skylark and to see the streaming sun rays flitter over piles of snow.
Ever angled up in heaven we almost see a dragon or a cannon that's protecting rampart walls.
And we know that we are safe here but it was such a battle that the scars are not quite healed.
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 2:17 AM UTC
The rolls and harrows lie at rest beside
The battered road; and spreading far and wide
Above the russet clods, the corn is seen
Sprouting its spiry points of tender green,
Where squats the hare, to terrors wide awake,
Like some brown clod the harrows failed to break.
Opening their golden caskets to the sun,
The buttercups make schoolboys eager run,
To see who shall be first to pluck the prize—
Up from their hurry, see, the skylark flies,
And o’er her half-formed nest, with happy wings
Winnows the air, till in the cloud she sings,
Then hangs a dust-spot in the sunny skies,
And drops, and drops, till in her nest she lies,
Which they unheeded passed—not dreaming then
That birds which flew so high would drop agen
To nests upon the ground, which anything
May come at to destroy. Had they the wing
Like such a bird, themselves would be too proud,
And build on nothing but a passing cloud!
As free from danger as the heavens are free
From pain and toil, there would they build and be,
And sail about the world to scenes unheard
Of and unseen—Oh, were they but a bird!
So think they, while they listen to its song,
And smile and fancy and so pass along;
While its low nest, moist with the dews of morn,
Lies safely, with the leveret, in the corn.
2k
-
you took a half of me that i didn't know i'd ever notice was missing the second you looked in my eyes and said my name like you'd always known you'd become my greatest tragedy, because you already read from the script
-
i was drawn in by your devil-may-care grin and blinded by an immediate want to be wanted
i fell in love with the way you forgot to be who you thought people expected you to be when you were with me
and when you were with me ( i could almost swear you loved me, too )
-
maybe my confusion grew on the midnights you'd call me and ask me to come lay with you- just lay with you, like i was the only thing that scared away your demons
or maybe it came about when you pressed tears into my skin on a day that was supposed to be about me but ended up being about you and, honestly, i didn't even care what the day started for
either way,
i would've let every day be about you.
-
you never apologized and, if i have forgiven you for anything else because you make me weak,
i will find a way to never forgive you for that
-
i can assure you no woman will ever learn to cherish you like i did
i'll let you live hypothetically, though-
even if one did, i promise you she'd never be able to care about you like i would have if you'd have let me
-
you birthed the meaning of two words for me in those winter months, words my father prayed i'd never have understood
i can sing songs of unrequited affection better than any skylark
and i'm learning to tack melody to a sonnet about healing better than any plant who's lost their sun
-
i wish i didn't miss you this much
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 1:04 AM UTC
Today the rains came, without any warning
I watched droplets forming, pooling on the ground
the trees dissolving into palest fog
into the quiet of this forest, void of birds
traveling off to some secret world
perhaps to some cavernous mountain hollow
with glorious wings, I dream to follow
through the darkened woods, hidden by ferns
through harrowing clouds to be one with birds
with gorgeous feathers, downy warm
among the flickers, pheasant and crow
to be an evening silhouette in the alpenglow
a skylark winging in a painted sky.
Jun 10, 2016
Jun 10, 2016 at 10:31 AM UTC
Did you see me in the rainbow
Did you feel me in the sun
Did you hear me in the swallows call
When all your chores were done.
Did you hear me in the laughing brook
or the changing of the tide
For I am always here my love,
forever by your side.
Hear my name as grasses whisper
gently stirred by summers breeze,
as the skylark sings my love for you
above the rustling trees.
Here I dance in your hearts meadow,
daisy chains set in my hair,
If ever you're in need of me
you'll find me waiting there.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 4:57 AM UTC
Cheers from inside the catacombs of just-alive vagabonds & miscreant self-delusions of sagacious sabotage & pyrrhic moonscapes, brandishing our eternal return
a tabula rasa for respect & character - bottoms up, too. Mona Lisa
Shroud of Turin, ******* on a trunk. Gamble 66
for trays, dealing steam carrots.
Gag reflex to polite televangelists giving viewers auspicious immunity.
Habits cede to Power, acquiesce to Power, love power.
Peculiarity can recognize & organize to displace.
Something suspicious may run amok , antithetical to the divide & conquer trite.
Defeating paragons, i , Plumed Serpent of release & capture beats, borrowing color from a skylark in forever-flight, conjure remedial winds
Guide inimical bows subsumed in a cosmo-prole dew against the fasces of a few.
Apr 7, 2010
Apr 7, 2010 at 10:20 PM UTC
A sunlit narrow path cleaving
overgrown green hedge, both ways,
such exhilarating surprises, it too can offer,
but would one expect, in the first place?
On my track, I stand arrested hold that flower,
that made my heart jump, in my front,
felt being washed inside out
by a kind wave, transformed.
The flower, romancing the sun
still is on it's branch,alive
didn't feel the temptation
to pluck it like many times before.
Even the beauty's name is unknown to me,
just another hibiscus,amidst her cousins,
"I love the one next to her, the purple one"
said a female voice, a wayfarer like me.
Standing by me, she adoringly looked at her favorite,
I had no hesitation to accept it, like mine.
no ranking makes sense, each has
own quicksilver tongue, if you 'd listen.
"Look at you! how pleased you look
I love the folks, that adore flowers!"
she sounded like a skylark, hands of
evening sun caressed her, we are kindred spirits.
"You have wide eyes like girls,
eyes seeking beauty reflect it"
we held hands like childhood friends,
long lost, looked at each other's eyes.
Isn't it the feeling one try to capture and define,
when trying to say what poetry makes to happen?
it's there, a tangible feeling, if you know what it means,
on our separate ways we went, gifting what to keep for ever.
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 1:02 PM UTC
The sun loomed young through the ribs of the Punic Port
Bringing back his turquoise splendor to the Med-Sea;
And Seagull, who in his morning flight did escort
The golden loaf of bread fishermen longed to see,
Soared higher and higher over the glazing port,
Preparing for the long voyage when the time be.
Expectant and white was the Carthaginian knight,
Oblivious of the blue peril; no long flight
Would scare him, no azure thirst would he have to fight.
Only the phantasm of an alien skylark,
who would despoil the timer of the golden sun &
peck out her "off" button with his accent mark -
Would make him soar & sing in his vision of bravery.
(c)LazharBouazzi
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 7:37 AM UTC
**All aboard the Skylark, a cruise of mystery
it comes highly recommended, excursion starts at three
with a-tootle of the horn, sightseeing we set sail
on Summer days, around the bay, then back for scones and tea.
... ... ...**
Jan 29, 2012
Jan 29, 2012 at 11:30 AM UTC
"All I Want" (A Day To Remember)
is for "You And I" (Anarbor)
to "Shine On" (Jet)
but it's not "All About Us" (He Is We, ft. Owl City)
and "If I Leave" (A Day To Remember)
will you come "And Run" (He Is We)
"A Thousand Miles" (Vanessa Carlton)
with me "When The Darkness Comes" (Colbie Caillat)
but let's not "Blame It On The Rain" (He Is We)
and don't think that my "Darkside" (Kelly Clarkson)
exists just to "Prove You Wrong" (He Is We)
I know "It's Complicated" (A Day To Remember)
but "Since U Been Gone" (A Day To Remember cover)
I've been feeling like your "Number One Enemy" (Daisy Dares You, ft Chipmunk)
and all I want to do is write you a "Love Song" (Sara Bareilles)
to show you that I'm "Still Into You" (Paramore)
So don't think that "Big Yellow Taxi" (Counting Crows)
is going to be your "Savior" (Rise Against)
but "Here It Goes Again" (Ok Go)
so don't think about "Everything I'm Not" (The Veronicas)
while I just sit here with "My Shiny Teeth And Me" (Chip Skylark)
trying to catch "Fireflies" (Owl City)
in a jar shaped like a "Skyscraper" (Demi Lovato)
so don't act like "It's The End Of The World As We Know It" (REM)
because in "One Week" (The Barenaked Ladies)
we'll all just be "Heroes And Thieves" (Vanessa Carlton)
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
Coastline, rocky, rugged, proud,
Crumbling cliffs in ozone shroud,
Sun-kissed drifts of desert sand,
Golden frame of a sea cradled land.
Fishing village, atmospheric hub,
Brass band playing, outside quaint old pub,
Boats, all sizes, rest near harbour wall,
Wading birds sift through tide-filled pool.
Foliage explosion of a Cornish hedge,
Country lanes snake, and young birds fledge,
Ruminants, punctuating, quilted hill,
Buzzards soar and wise hares are still.
Tin mine engine house, towering stack,
Roof caved in, gorse and bracken’s back,
White clay peak, geometrical and sleek,
Earth’s riches gouged, canyon deep.
Moor-land, open, untamed, granite strewn,
Wild ponies dance to a skylark’s tune,
Tor and beacon, barrow and mound,
You’re in God’s own country, when you walk this ground.
Jun 21, 2017
Jun 21, 2017 at 4:21 PM UTC
Jane and I walked the Downs
the weather was warm
the sky clear
the Sun was above
Jane pointed upwards
that's a Skylark
she said
I looked to where
she pointed and saw
a bird swaying above us
then it moved across
the sky and away
it looks like a Sparrow
I said
it has different plumage
she said
taking hold of my hand
and squeezing it gently
it's streaky brown
with a small crest
and white sided tail
she added
as we looked around
you have good eyesight
I said
o I’ve seen them
close up and have
studied them for ages
she said
her hand was warm in mine
I rubbed my thumb
against her skin
I’ll look it up
in my book of birds
I said
Aluda arvenis
is its Latin name
she said
we paused by a tree
and looked at each other
there was the sound
of a tractor humming
across some nearby field
cows mooed
over a hedge
she drew me closer
and kissed me
lips to lips
my heart pounded within
we drew apart
holding hands still
my parents trust us
she said softly
I don't want
to betray that trust
she added
I don't expect you to
I said
unsure what she meant
then guessing about
the Lizbeth girl
who had tried
to get me do things
which I hadn't
we walked on
and up the Downs
hands still holding
how many birds
do you know?
I asked her
I learn each day
a new one
she said
I borrow Dad's big book
of birds and study it
I couldn't imagine Lizbeth
bothering to study anything
unless it had
to do with *** couldn't
imagine her worried
about her parents' trust
(if they had any in her)
we passed the big hollow tree
on our left
but didn't stop
we walked past
the spot where
we usually stopped
then up to the Downs
out of the trees
and along the top
where sheep wool
was caught on
the barbed wire fences
we stared out
over the countryside
below us
and saw the farms
and fields
and trees
and the tractor
in a field
and cows
and sheep
she turned
and kissed me
and I felt a glimpse of Heaven
inside me
swelling like a warm
deep sea.
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 2:46 AM UTC
(1)
Galaxy bathe in milk
waves of blue sea bouncing high
blue whale sailing
(2)
Meteor falling down
lightening flash in the clouds
small child getting scared
(3)
a dark cloud emerges
skylark opening the mouth
frog enjoying rain
(4)
Duck floats on water
sun smiles at its reflection
fisherman sail
(5)
Wind touches her cheeks
rainbow kisses purple steamy lips
vibration in dark clouds
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 10:11 AM UTC