Out Back - P.P. Quinn

We dumped our swags by the river—side when the sun was getting low;
To reach the boys on the other side we had four good miles to go;
But the winding stream that before us stretched ran sluggishly and wide—
'T was a hundred yards from where we sat to the sand on the other side.
The tailings washed from the claims above had sullied the waters clear,
And thicker and thicker they slowly ran as year succeeded year;
My mate and myself wished heartily we had reached the further shore—
The trip was the first he had made on the track, but I had been there before

A Tired Day - Sergei Esenin

When a tired day bowed down to the night
The waves fell still, the birds wouldn’t fly,
The sun set down over the hills (what a sight!)
And musingly the moon floated in the sky.

A night-mooring near Maple Bridge - Zhang Ji

While I watch the moon go down, a crow caws through the frost;

River-Mates - Padraic Colum

I’ll be an otter, and I’ll let you swim
A mate beside me; we will venture down
A deep, dark river, when the sky above
Is shut of the sun; spoilers are we,

At the Edge of Time - Pierre Reverdy

The stems of the sun bent over the eye
             The sleeping man
The whole of the earth

Autumn fields (The Hunter and the Hero - Book IV) - Bhāravi,

Now Arjun came to peopled lands,
All fresh and blooming as a bride;
The tuneful birds flew in the sky,
The crops were rich in golden pride!

On a Blind Girl - Baha ad-Din Zuhayr

They call my love a poor blind maid:
I love her more for that, I said;

The Return Home - Joseph the Hymnographer

Safe home, safe home in port!
—Rent cordage, shattered deck,
Torn sails, provisions short,
And only not a wreck:
But oh! the joy upon the shore
To tell our voyage-perils o’er!

Love’s madness (Book I.1:1-38) - Sextus Propertius

Cynthia was the first, to my cost, to trap me with her eyes:
I was untouched by love before then.
Amor it was who lowered my gaze of endless disdain,
and, feet planted, bowed my head,
till he taught me, recklessly,
to scorn pure girls and live without sense,
and this madness has not left me for one whole year now,
though I do attract divine hostility.

Who Can Count The Sand In Oceans? - Akaki Tsereteli

Who can count the sand in oceans,
Or the stars in skies at night?

Raisins And Almonds - Abraham Goldfaden

Under baby's cradle in the night
Stands a goat so soft and snowy white

An Old Man’s Song - Alexey Koltzov

I shall saddle a horse,
A swift courser, he,

Jesus – The Shepherd - Vikram G. Aarella

Oh, my shepherd lord
What are your followers doing?
They are playing the money card
Luring men into their fold and converting.

Sleepy birds - Mihai Eminescu

All those sleepy birds
Now tired from flight
Hide among the leaves
Good-night!

The Harper - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Ah, he who seeketh solitude
Is all too soon alone;
Men live and love, but he must brood
Upon his pain and moan.
Leave agony with me!
When I at last shall be
Quite lonely grown—
I shall not be alone.

Shell - Indrė Valantinaitė

Since the time I moved away from you,
I slide along the ground like a snail
on whose slimy body fragments
of my shell still stick.

The Way You Are - Paul Adolphus

When you look in the mirror
what do you see?
Is the person who's looking back
The person you want to be?

Christ's Manhood - Adam Gottlob Oehlenschläger

I know not where thou art.
Where hast thou gone, dear child,
Thou who from earth's young heart
Hast looked to Heaven and smiled?
Ah, in the scorched field
I search for thee in vain,
But in the woods concealed
I find thee once again.

Pine Tree - Kim Ki-Taek

Even pine needles are broad, in their earliest stages.
Their present form, now sharpened and firmed,
Traces of the passing chill, creating openings between the leaves, thin slicing forks.
Traces of cold blood passing through reptiles' veins.

A Song of an Autumn Night - Wang Wei

Under the crescent moon a light autumn dew
Has chilled the robe she will not change—

The old quays - Georges Rodenbach

That exquisite hour at evening’s approach,
when the heavens fill with processions tinged rose
which advance, shedding souls and flowers,
casting into the air the fragrance of censers.
Then, more lucid beneath the declining light
of sunset, whose crimson glow gradually dies,
the charm of old walls where ancient streets end.