Nightingales, a sigh, a whisper - Afanasy Afanasevich Fet

Nightingales, a sigh, a whisper
In a shady nook
And the lullaby in silver
Of a lazy brook.

A Preliminary Sketch Concerning a Language - Afzal Ahmed Syed

In your language every line begins from an opposite end.
The pronunciation of its words changes from day to night
and their orthography changes with the change of seasons.

The Cricket - Arseny Tarkovsky

To tell the truth, I'm kin
          to the house cricket.
I sing a secret song
          above the oven's ash.
For me, one brings
          the water to a fierce boil,
For me, another
          prepares a hearth of gold.

Beauty And Toil - Josh Malihabadi

There she sweats on the road, a beauteous, restless lass,
In scorching sun she breaks the stones, her bangles clink and clash.

Ballade - François Villon

I know flies in milk
I know the man by his clothes
I know fair weather from foul
I know the apple by the tree
I know the tree when I see the sap
I know when all is one
I know who labors and who loafs
I know everything but myself.

The Mystery - Amergin Glúingel

I am the wind which breathes upon the sea,
I am the wave of the ocean,

Children of Our Age - Wislawa Szymborska

We are children of our age,
it's a political age.

Are you looking for me? - Kabir

Are you looking for me? I am in the next seat.
My shoulder is against yours.

The Woman and the Flame - Aimé Césaire

A bit of light that descends the springhead of a gaze
twin shadow of the eyelash and the rainbow on a face
and round about
who goes there angelically
ambling

Anthem - Ahmad Shamlu

Before being turned to ashes
 by the wrath of the thunderbolt,
    he had forced the steer of the tempest
         to kneel before his might.

Chizama the poet - Nontsizi Mgqwetho

Sir, Editor of our Umtetell,
long life to you,
grandson of heroes who fell at Hoho.
Mercy! Go, Gatyeni,
we'll follow you.

Akhenaton’s Song/ Prayer/ Psalm - Dennis Vincent Brutus

Light gleaming through trees
light above sunset hills
light glowing golden
Rhodesian-Zimbabwean red

Village Song - Sarojini Naidu

Honey, child, honey, child, whither are you going?
Would you cast your jewels all to the breezes blowing?
Would you leave the mother who on golden grain has fed you?
Would you grieve the lover who is riding forth to wed you?

Wild Geese - Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.

From the Far West - Barcroft Boake

'Tis a song of the Never Never land—
Set to the tune of a scorching gale
        On the sandhills red,
        When the grasses dead
Loudly rustle, and bow the head
To the breath of its dusty hail:

The Buried City - George Sylvester Viereck

My heart is like a city of the gay
 Reared on the ruins of a perished one
 Wherein my dead loves cower from the sun,
White-swathed like kings, the Pharaohs of a day.
Within the buried city stirs no sound,
 Save for the bat, forgetful of the rod,
 Perched on the knee of some deserted god,
And for the groan of rivers underground.

More About People - Ogden Nash

When people aren't asking questions
They're making suggestions

Franz Grillparzer - A Kiss

A hand is to be kissed respectfully,
The forehead solemnly, with friendship,

The Shining Hours (XI) - Emile Verhaeren

How readily delight is aroused in her,
with her eyes of fiery ecstasy,
she who is gentle and resigned
before life in so simple a fashion.

Cups Without Wine - Yehudah HaLevi

Cups without wine are low things

Soft Caramel - Jean Cocteau

Take a young girl.
Fill her with ice and gin
shake it all up to make it androgynous

A Cowherding girl - Mirabai

The plums tasted
sweet to the unlettered desert-tribe girl—

Evening Prayer - Eliza Lee Follen

Great Source of being,
Father all-seeing!
We bow before thee;
Our souls adore thee;
Help us obey thee;
Guide us aright;
Keep us, we pray thee,
Through the long night.

Last News About The Little Box - Vasko Popa

The little box which contains the world
Fell in love with herself
And conceived
Still another little box

An Hour - Czesław Miłosz

Leaves glowing in the sun, zealous hum of bumblebees,
From afar, from somewhere beyond the river, echoes of lingering voices
And the unhurried sounds of a hammer gave joy not only to me.

Look To This Day - Kālidāsa

Look to this day:
For it is life, the very life of life.
In its brief course
Lie all the verities and realities of your existence.
The bliss of growth,
The glory of action,
The splendour of achievement
Are but experiences of time.