Kubla Khan

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

[googly text]

Or see in a dream. fragment

I did Kubla Khan in Xanadu
Luxurious fun analysis of the canopy:
Where a thousand ran, the sacred river
Through the caves the effort of man
   In an insignificant sea.
These will double five miles of fertile land
The walls and towers are rounded:
There were bright gardens with clear manuscripts,
Where there are many flowers of incense.
And here the forests were as old as the hills,
Numerous sunny green spots.

But oh! This deep romantic broke up this shit
Pour rice under the green hill!
Challenging place! How sacred and instructive
If you have ever fished during a growing month
With his wife, he shouts at Satan’s lover!
From this valley with constant unrest
It’s as if this earth was breathing thick pants fast,
Amazing moments forced by the fountain:
In a rapid explosion
Huge curved fragments, such as a cold bounce
Or a chocolate bar under the wearer:
And in the middle of these dances, they swing at the same time
For a moment the sacred river flowed.
Five miles is wrapped in a maze
Through forests and valleys around the sacred river
Then the caves reach man without measurement,
And dive into the chaos in the Pacific:
In the midst of these riots, I heard a kiss from a distance
Parental voices predict war!

   The shadow of a fun roof
   Rotate the center of the waves.
   Where he heard a mixed measure
   From fountains and caves.
It was a miracle of a rare device,
Fun sensual dome with ice caves!
   Girl with a dulcimer
   Once I saw it.
   She was an Ethiopian girl,
   And they played in Centaur,
   A song by Mount Abura.
   Can I come to life?
   Their consent and song,
   For such great pleasure I can win,
Thanks to loud and long music
I’ll build a dome in the air,
This sensual dome! These ice caves!
And everyone who has heard it must see
Everyone should shout: Attention! Be careful!
His shiny eyes and floating hair!
Ring three times,
And you will close your eyes with holy fear,
Because he ate aphids,
And drink tomato milk.

[original text]

Or a Vision in a Dream. A Fragment

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
   Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:
And ’mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!

   The shadow of the dome of pleasure
   Floated midway on the waves;
   Where was heard the mingled measure
   From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
   A damsel with a dulcimer
   In a vision once I saw;
   It was an Abyssinian maid,
   And on her dulcimer she played,
   Singing of Mount Abora.
   Could I revive within me
   Her symphony and song,
   To such a deep delight ’twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.


Translation steps: English > Frisian > Arabic > Greek > Slovak > English
The original text of this poem is in the public domain.

A Pact

Ezra Pound

[googly text]

I’ve got military power with you, Walt Whitman –
I really hate it.
I came to you
Who was the pig?
I’m good enough to be friends.
You broke the new board
Now it’s time to dump her and move on.
We have juice and roots.
Let’s do something.

[original text]

I make truce with you, Walt Whitman—
I have detested you long enough.
I come to you as a grown child
Who has had a pig-headed father;
I am old enough now to make friends.
It was you that broke the new wood,
Now is a time for carving.
We have one sap and one root—
Let there be commerce between us.


Translation steps: English > German > Samoan > Basque > Swahili > Turkmen > English
The original text of this poem is in the public domain.

To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time

Robert Herrick

[googly text]

When you get a bunch
You have been alive for a long time;
This flower is delicious today.
You will die tomorrow

Sun, day,
high
competition
And around it

This is better,
When young people and blood are hot.
But they used to spend more money
Cali is still the first.

So be sure to take the time,
When you are dead, get married.
Because you lost your way, but once,
You can live forever

[original text]

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he’s a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he’s to setting.

That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry;
For having lost but once your prime,
You may forever tarry.


Translation steps: English > Romanian > Indonesian > Hungarian > Gujarati > Greek > Xhosa > Italian > Icelandic > Chinese (Simplified) > English
The original text of this poem is in the public domain.

The Emperor of Ice-Cream

Wallace Stevens

[googly text]

Call on cigarettes,
A knife, and he hit
Keep the empty cup in the cupboards.
Instead, wear a coat of clothing
Yet they use their clothes and leave the men
The flower is the newspaper last month.
That’s a feeling
The king is the only king of the ice.

Getting a job from a salesman,
The compression, the lack of three party cupboards
This is his first step
And it spread the cover of his face.
If he will triumph in his hands, they will come
Seeing her injury, and her sweetheart.
Put the stick in your box.
The king is the only king of the ice.

[original text]

Call the roller of big cigars,
The muscular one, and bid him whip
In kitchen cups concupiscent curds.
Let the wenches dawdle in such dress
As they are used to wear, and let the boys
Bring flowers in last month’s newspapers.
Let be be finale of seem.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.

Take from the dresser of deal,
Lacking the three glass knobs, that sheet
On which she embroidered fantails once
And spread it so as to cover her face.
If her horny feet protrude, they come
To show how cold she is, and dumb.
Let the lamp affix its beam.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.


Translation steps: English > Punjabi > Hawaiian > Cebuano > English
The original text of this poem is in the public domain.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Robert Frost

[googly text]

I know how to know forests
His house is in his own house;
He can not stop me here
Fill in sugar to see your forests.

My little girl should think it’s bad
To stop outside the nearby building
Between the bush and the lakes
It’s the great evening of the year

He shook the arrow of his diarrhea
If you ask if it’s wrong
It’s just a sound bag
It can be transformed from the wind and thinner.

It is beautiful, dark, and foresty is deep.
But I have a promise to keep
On the journey before I went to bed,
It was a mile before I went to bed

[original text]

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.


Translation steps: English > Punjabi > Maori > English
The original text of this poem is in the public domain.

The Doxology [Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow]

Thomas Ken

[googly text]

God who praises every aspect of happiness,
Praise all blessings to God.

Introduce all workers below,
To minimize all your art,

The happiness of all life under the feet,

He praised and praised him,
He praised and praised him,

Company Location:
Catching is very important.
Catching is very important.

Thank you, thank you.

Thank you, Lord of Heaven,

We thank others, sons and daughters.
Evidence, Beta and Hoffst.

Praise the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Praise the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Halliah, Halli Lajahahah, Eli, Amine, Amine, Ely,
Hall-Li-J,

Halla, Halla, Lazarus, Hallel,

Khalilaja, Halli Lajahah, Helijaya, Amin,

Amen, Helly, Amnes, Helly, Amen

[original text]

Praise God from whom all blessings flow,
Praise God from whom all blessings flow,

praise him all creatures here below,
praise him all creatures here below,

praise him all creatures here below,

praise him above, praise him above
praise him above, praise him above

praise him above, ye heav’nly host
praise him above, ye heav’nly host,

praise him above, praise him above

praise him above, ye heavenly host

praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost
praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost

praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, amen, amen, hallelujah,
hallelujah,

hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah,

hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, amen,

amen, hallelujah, amen, hallelujah, amen.

(Submitted by Marlon Wiebe)


Translation steps: English > Chinese (Simplified) > Urdu > Vietnamese > English
The original text of this poem is in the public domain. (If this information is incorrect, please contact us.)

The Windhover

Gerard Manley Hopkins

[googly text]

Tomorrow morning I landed,
The death of daylight, Daffle Dawn Falcon, on horseback
From the level of turnover under him, steady air and at war
Up, how am I riding clean wings?
In your mess! then, turn off until the swing,
When the shoe moves smoothly to bending: the door and the planer
Reject the high wind. My heart is hiding
Mix for the bird, you succeed; part of the installation!

Creepy beauty and daring, and act, oh, look, proud, fool, here
Tighten! And the fire that tears you, billions
Time has said more beautiful, mortal, oh, my traitor!

No wonder Sheer Fruit makes an eagle with a million
Light precious stone and blue and white, my dear,
Fold, fold and throw gold vermilion.

[original text]

I caught this morning morning’s minion, king-
dom of daylight’s dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
As a skate’s heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird,—the achieve of; the mastery of the thing!

Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!

No wonder of it: shéer plód makes plough down sillion
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermillion.


Translation steps: English > Icelandic > Bulgarian > French > English
The original text of this poem is in the public domain.

By the Stream

Paul Laurence Dunbar

[googly text]

In the flood I dream of happiness, I watch as with mirrors,
The look of the cloud is like a crowd of snow and white symptoms,
Water in the turbulence is high and bright as walking,
Like gunmen with a silver helmet on their heads.
I think it is likely to become a river that can be in a state of human life,
Because I can see that thinking can be very clear,
The soul can shine with accident lights and miraculous secrets,
When there is a lie and seen in what they see.

[original text]

By the stream I dream in calm delight, and watch as in a glass,
How the clouds like crowds of snowy-hued and white-robed maidens pass,
And the water into ripples breaks and sparkles as it spreads,
Like a host of armored knights with silver helmets on their heads.
And I deem the stream an emblem fit of human life may go,
For I find a mind may sparkle much and yet but shallows show,
And a soul may glow with myriad lights and wondrous mysteries,
When it only lies a dormant thing and mirrors what it sees.


Translation steps: English > Malagasy > Arabic > English
The original text of this poem is in the public domain.

Sonnet 43 [How do I love thee? Let me count the ways]

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

[googly text]

How do I like her? Not legally these ways.
I love wine in depth and height and height
My soul can come when you can not see it
For that reason to have a good grace.
I like to go to a daily situation
The most silent demand, the day and light of light.
I am wine freely as people try strong.
You are the one who loves me, and I love him.
I love you with the strong desire you can use
I went to bed with my girlfriend faith.
I love wine for love I lost
There are the saints whom they have lost. I love wine with the breath,
Smile, lively in my life; And if God chooses,
I will love you better after death.

[original text]

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.


Translation steps: English > Sesotho > Yiddish > Esperanto > [unknown] > English
The original text of this poem is in the public domain.

The Second Coming

W.B. Yeats

[googly text]

They dream about the extensions
Falcon does not hear Falconers;
Come down, but the center is not feasible!
This permission works only for the world;
Olive mountains and bleeding are clear that the heat in every place,
An innocent ceremony goes out.
This is especially free of any thoughts when he is a stupid one
They are full of passionate research.

I can speak to you or it is not a revelation;
Of course, the second is shown here.
Resurrection! And these words were new
The spirit has seen a great world,
You stop me in the search, instead of sand in desert
The lion’s head and the human body;
For example, the look of a dress, the shining sun,
Laughing at the club, but it’s all about it
Troubleshooting in the shadow of the bird.
Dark has now been published again. But now I know
20 stone beds
Thanks to this turbulent starch,
Grub and animals with your last courses
Lamp in the city on his journey, was he born?

[original text]

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?


Translation steps: English > Latin > Latvian > Lithuanian > Luxembourgish > English
The original text of this poem is in the public domain.