Welcome to Poetry.com
Poetry.com is a huge collection of poems from famous and amateur poets from around the world — collaboratively published by a community of authors and contributing editors.
Kim Isabell Degutsch 1989 (Rinteln)
Make sacred even Ay, my good lord.
This not enough to help, attends he here or not?
I thank you.
Whither art going?
Show me the price
Sir you have saved my longing
What time o' day
The most accursed
Till I have thanked you.
Please you to dispose yourselves,
Ells I should tell him well
Tis pity bounty had not eye behind
That man might ne'er be wretched for his mind
I promise you, my lord, you have moved me much
O my friends, they're welcome all.
Music make their welcome.
You mistake my love, and there is none.
We always have confessed it,
I come you have thee thrust me of the door.
I am a humble suitor, for pity is the virtue of the law.
If there were no foes, your reverend ages love security.
You great benefactors, sprinkle the good time of day, thoughts tearing.
More then the men that hard fate!
It comes not ill, makes the senate ugly….
With all my heart shall be a fume, by his loved mansion, smells wrongly here.
How tender, nimbly and sweet, favor ever is fear.
Could trammel up the consequences, as you have done to this.
Think on me, much unlike art thou.
This pearl plays one scene, sorrowful water…
Evils enough to let a fellow, be familiar with it.
Come on, we have beaten them to their bets.
Do something, make it so known.
Egos make this a happy day, peace is near.
Go forth, prove this propose day.
Shall bear freely, my fortunes have.
Through the ashes of elements, there was no winter
Be it known
Doing the honor, the emperor heart a root.
A lying trophy, find fairer fortune.
Poising us in the defective scale
Not much commendation, spare not me!
Ask me of noble bachelors, I shall beseech your highness.
Believe not, I dare not to say, forth eye.
It is in us, most fruitfully.
Me and my service, fair one on every tomb.
I am no great, I do not know, here is a paper.
Full of gold, the first in goodness.
Owed her a more rooted love, in evil, shall be surety
Tis time to fear, breath is gone, the poor worm, sore eyes, your majesty.
Covering of careful night, which care of them
I may dishonor him, her face was mine, arms to the princess, as if those.
My mind is now turned, I shall be plagued .
As Americans woof to enter, armed and bloody in intent, tis wars.
Tis true, my trumpet sound, therefor come back.
To tell thee I do not like this fooling.
No more within my soul, divides more wider, the gods have heard the swear
Do not count it holy, even in the faith of appear, you are too deep for me
What is this fellow?
Last purpose hold, your condition, I feel this prick
He is full of abdication.
Wretched through, produce a champion, the serve cry.
Wheel of fire, put them off, cure the great.
Your business of the world, fortune at the end.
The enemy in view, worse hour, every measure fail, take it in.
Awake, I can produce a champion.
In our hearts we are able, not notorious…
I have those hopes, where an unclean mind derives honesty.
Motility and excellence indeed.
Take place virtuosi, there is commendation.
Keep him out.
To my desires, up again, men approve or men detect.
A burning torch, fortunes are answerable .
Come try, that sword would be my mind.
You have shed your blood, I am out of breath.
About this poem
Critic and history
Discuss this Kim Isabell Degutsch poem with the community:
Find a translation for this poem in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)
Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:
"The Winter of Last Year" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 22 Sep. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/102666/the-winter-of-last-year>.