• William Shakespeare: King Lear III:2
• John Donne: The Sun Rising
• Percy Bysshe Shelley: Ode to the West Wind
• John Clare: The thunder mutters
• Emily Brontë: All Hushed and still
• Emily Brontë: High waving heather
• Emily Brontë: The night-wind
• Emily Dickinson: There came a wind like a bugle
• Emily Dickinson: On this long storm the rainbow rose
• William Morris: Riding together
• Robert Louis Stevenson: To S.R Crockett
• Carl Sandburg: Fog
• Edward Thomas: Rain
• Louis MacNeice: The sunlight on the garden
• Seamus Heaney: The Rain Stick
• Here's that rainy day

William Shakespeare (1564–1616)

King Lear Act III. Scene II.

LEAR
Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage, blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout                              watervallen, wervelstormen
Till you have drenched our steeples, drowned the cocks!   Ondergedompeld, torenspitsen You sulfurous and thought-executing fires,                        zwavelachtig
Vaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving thunderbolts,                     snoeverij-overbrengers
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,          verschroei
Smite flat the thick rotundity o' th' world,                           hoogdravendheid
Crack nature’s molds, all germens spill at once                  materiaal, kiemen
That make ingrateful man!
FOOL
O nuncle, court holy water in a dry house is better than
this rainwater out o' door. Good nuncle, in,                        ga toch naar binnen
and ask thy daughter's blessing.
Here’s a night pities neither wise man nor fool.                   Ontziet noch…noch
LEAR
Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! Spout, rain!                         knorren
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire are my daughters.
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness.                     Beschuldig jullie niet van
I never gave you kingdom, called you children.
You owe me no subscription. Why then, let fall                    niets verschuldigd
Your horrible pleasure. Here I stand, your slave—
A poor, infirm, weak, and despised old man.

John Donne (1572 –1631)

The sun rising

Busy old fool, unruly Sun,                                                        onhandelbare
Why dost thou thus,
Through windows, and through curtains, call on us ?
Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run ?
Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide                                              brutale, berispen
Late school-boys and sour prentices,
Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride,
Call country ants to harvest offices ;                                        provisiekamers
Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime,                               klimaat
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.                 flarden

Thy beams so reverend, and strong                                        eerbiedig
Why shouldst thou think ?
I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,
But that I would not lose her sight so long.
If her eyes have not blinded thine,
Look, and to-morrow late tell me,
Whether both th' Indias of spice and mine
Be where thou left'st them, or lie here with me.
Ask for those kings whom thou saw'st yesterday,
And thou shalt hear, "All here in one bed lay."

She's all states, and all princes I ;
Nothing else is ;
Princes do but play us ; compared to this,
All honour's mimic, all wealth alchemy.                                     Na-aperij, toverij 
Thou, Sun, art half as happy as we,
In that the world's contracted thus ;
Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
To warm the world, that's done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere ;
This bed thy center is, these walls thy sphere.                         hemelgewelf

Dit hele beroemde gedicht van Shelley zit prachtig strak in zijn vorm. het zijn steeds regels van 10 lettergrepen (jambische pentameters) en de 5 strofen zijn allemaal opgebouwd met het rijmschema ABA BCB CDC DED EE, een zogenaamd Terza Rima. 

Percy Bysshe Shelly (1792-1822)

ODE TO THE WEST WIND

I.

Wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,
Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead
Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,                tovenaar
Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,                         bleek
Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou,                         door n dodelijke epidemie getroffen Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed                               in een strijdwagen rijdt
The wingèd seeds, where they lie cold and low,
Each like a corpse within its grave, until
Thine azure sister of the spring shall blow                           hemelsblauwe
Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill                         klaroen
(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)
With living hues and odors plain and hill:                             kleurschakeringen,geur
Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;
Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh, hear!

II.

Thou on whose stream, 'mid the steep sky's commotion,        hoge
Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed,
Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean,           verstrikte takken
Angels of rain and lightning: there are spread
On the blue surface of thine airy surge,                                 golving/stroming
Like the bright hair uplifted from the head
Of some fierce Mænad, even from the dim verge                   wilde nimf, donkere rand
Of the horizon to the zenith's height,                                     hoogste punt vd sterrenhemel The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge                      sluizen, klaagzang
Of the dying year, to which this closing night
Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre,                                     graf
Vaulted with all thy congregated might                                   overwelfd, verzamelde
Of vapors, from whose solid atmosphere                                grillen/dampen
Black rain, and fire, and hail, will burst: oh hear!

III.

Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams                  jij deed de MZ* ontwaken
The blue Mediterranean, where he lay,
Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams,                          gewiegd, tumult, kristalheldere
Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay,                                     puimstenen, Baai bij Napels
And saw in sleep old palaces and towers
Quivering within the wave's intenser day,                             trillend
All overgrown with azure moss and flowers
So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou                    het begrip/gevoel, verzwakt
For whose path the Atlantic's level powers                            zeespiegelkrachten
Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below                   afgronden
The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear                   modderige
The sapless foliage of the ocean, know                                 droge loof
Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear,
And tremble and despoil themselves: oh hear!                      Beroven zichzelf

*Middellandse Zee

IV.

If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear;
If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee;
A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share                      hijgen
The impulse of thy strength, only less free
Than thou, O uncontrollable! if even
I were as in my boyhood, and could be
The comrade of thy wanderings over heaven,
As then, when to outstrip thy skyey speed                           overvleugelen
Scarce seemed a vision; I would ne'er have striven
As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need.                        hoogste nood
Oh! lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud!
I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!
A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed
One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud.                 ontembaar

V.

Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is;                              lier
What if my leaves are falling like its own!
The tumult of thy mighty harmonies
Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone,
Sweet though in sadness. Be thou,
Spirit fierce, My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!               onstuimig
Drive my dead thoughts over the universe
Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth!
And, by the incantation of this verse,                                   toverformule
Scatter, as from an extinguished hearth
Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
Be through my lips to unwakened earth
The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

John Clare (1793 –1864)

The thunder mutters louder and more loud                    rommelt,
With quicker motion hay folks ply the rake                    gebruiken de riek
Ready to burst slow sails the pitch black cloud               pikdonkere
And all the gang a bigger haycock make                       hooi-opper
To sit beneath – the woodland winds awake
The drops so large wet all through in an hour
A tiney flood runs down the leaning rake
In the sweet hay yet dry the hay folks cower                ineenkrimpen
And some beneath the wagon shun the shower             ontvlieden de regenbui

Emily Brontë (1818-1848)

All hushed and still

All hushed and still within the house;
Without, all wind and driving rain;                     buiten, slagregen
But something whispers to my mind,
Wrought up in rain and wailing wind:                 gesmeed in
Never again? Why not again?
Never again!
Memory has power as well as wind!

Emily Brontë (1818-1848)

High waving heather,

High waving heather, beneath stormy blasts bending,               windvlagen
Midnight and moonlight and bright shining stars;
Darkness and glory rejoicingly blending,                                  vreugdevol
Earth rising to heaven and heaven descending,                         afdalend
Man's spirit away from its deep dungeon sending,                     kerker
Bursting the fetters and breaking the bars.                               boeien,tralies

All down the mountain sides, wild forests lending                      geven
One mighty voice to the lifegiving wind;
Rivers their banks in the jubilee rending,                                 vervoering, splijten
Fast through the valleys a reckless course wending,                 koers nemen
Wider and deeper their valleys extending,                               groter maken
Leaving a desolate desert behind.

Shining and lowering and swelling and dying                           verminderen
Changing forever from midnight to noon;
Roaring like thunder like soft music sighing,
Shadows on shadows advancing and flying,                             oprukken
Lightning-bright flashes the deep gloom defying,                      trotserend
Coming as swiftly and fading as soon.                                     net zo vlug

Emily Brontë (1818-1848)

The night-wind

In summer's mellow midnight,
A cloudless moon shone through
Our open parlour window,                            woonkamerraam
And rose-trees wet with dew.

I sat in silent musing;                                  gepeins
The soft wind waved my hair;
It told me heaven was glorious,
And sleeping earth was fair.

I needed not its breathing
To bring such thoughts to me;
But still it whispered lowly,                          toch, deemoedig
'How dark the woods would be!

'The thick leaves in my murmur
Are rustling like a dream,
And all their myriad voices                          talloze
Instinct with spirit seem.'                             doordrongen/bezield

I said, 'Go, gentle singer,
Thy wooing voice is kind:
But do not think its music
Has power to reach my mind.

'Play with the scented flower,
The young tree's supple bough,                      tak
And leave my human feelings
In their own course to flow.'

The wanderer would not heed me:                 naar mij luisteren
Its kiss grew warmer still:
'Oh Come!' it sighed so sweetly;
'I'll win thee 'gainst thy will.

'Were we not friends from childhood?
Have I not loved thee long?
As long as thou, the solemn night,
Whose silence wakes my song.

'And when thy heart is resting
Beneath the church-aisle stone,
I shall have time for mourning,                      rouwen
And thou for being alone.'

Emily Dickinson (1830 – 1886)

There came a wind like a bugle;                  jachthoorn
It quivered through the grass,                     trilde
And a green chill upon the heat
So ominous did pass.                                  Onheilspellend

We barred the windows and the doors         vergrendelden
As from an emerald ghost;                         smaragdgroene
The doom's electric moccasin
That very instant passed.

On a strange mob of panting trees,              naar, menigte, hijgende
And fences fled away,                                 weggewaaide hekken
And rivers where the houses ran
The living looked that day.

The bell within the steeple wild                     torenspits
The flying tidings whirled.                            Tijdingen kolkten
How much can come
And much can go,
And yet abide the world!                              afwachten/verdragen

Emily Dickinson (1830 – 1886)

On this long storm the rainbow rose,
On this late morn the sun;
The clouds, like listless elephants,
Horizons straggled down.                                    Dwaalden af

The birds rose smiling in their nests,
The gales indeed were done;                               stormen, voorbij
Alas! how heedless were the eyes                        achteloos
On whom the summer shone!

The quiet nonchalance of death
No daybreak can bestir;                                      activeren
The slow archangel’s syllables
Must awaken her.

In de 19de eeuw werd de Middeleeuwen weer een populair onderwerp. De ridderverhalen werden geromantiseerd en dit is daar een mooi voorbeeld van.

William Morris (1834- 1896)

Riding Together

For many, many days together
The wind blew steady from the East;
For many days hot grew the weather,
About the time of our Lady's Feast.

For many days we rode together,
Yet met we neither friend nor foe;                            vijand
Hotter and clearer grew the weather,
Steadily did the East wind blow.

We saw the trees in the hot, bright weather,
Clear-cut, with shadows very black,
As freely we rode on together
With helms unlaced and bridles slack.                     Helmen los, teugels slap

And often, as we rode together,
We, looking down the green-bank'd stream,
Saw flowers in the sunny weather,
And saw the bubble-making bream.                         brasem (vis)

And in the night lay down together,
And hung above our heads the rood,                        kruisbeeld
Or watch'd night-long in the dewy weather,
The while the moon did watch the wood.

Our spears stood bright and thick together,
Straight out the banners stream'd behind,                 vaandels
As we gallop'd on in the sunny weather,
With faces turn'd towards the wind.

Down sank our threescore spears together,              zestig
As thick we saw the pagans ride;                             heidenen/niet-christenen
His eager face in the clear fresh weather,
Shone out that last time by my side.

Up the sweep of the bridge we dash'd together,          bochtig pad,stormden vooruit
It rock'd to the crash of the meeting spears,
Down rain'd the buds of the dear spring weather,
The elm-tree flowers fell like tears.                           iep

There, as we roll'd and writhed together,                   kronkelden van de pijn 
I threw my arms above my head,
For close by my side, in the lovely weather,
I saw him reel and fall back dead.                             wankelen

I and the slayer met together,                                  moordenaar
He waited the death-stroke there in his place,
With thoughts of death, in the lovely weather,
Gapingly mazed at my madden'd face.                      keek met verbijstering

Madly I fought as we fought together;
In vain: the little Christian band                                vergeefs
The pagans drown'd, as in stormy weather
The river drowns low-lying land.

They bound my blood-stain'd hands together,
They bound his corpse to nod by my side:                  met hangend hoofd
Then on we rode, in the bright March weather,
With clash of cymbals did we ride.

We ride no more, no more together;
My prison-bars are thick and strong,
I take no heed of any weather,
The sweet Saints grant I live not long.

Stevenson was een Schotse schrijver met een zwakke gezondheid die zijn laatste jaren op Samoa woonde. Daar ontving hij het bericht dat Crockett, een andere Schotse schrijver, zijn nieuwe boek aan Stevenson zou opdragen. Dat ontlokte hem dit gedicht. Schotland heeft hij nooit meer gezien.

Robert Louis Stevenson (1850 –1894)

To S. R. Crockett (On Receiving a Dedication)

Blows the wind to-day, and the sun and the rain are flying,
Blows the wind on the moors to-day and now,
Where about the graves of the martyrs the whaups are crying,         martelaren, wulpen
My heart remembers how!

Grey recumbent tombs of the dead in desert places,                        rustende graven
Standing stones on the vacant wine-red moor,                                 lege
Hills of sheep, and the homes of the silent vanished races,                verdwenen
And winds, austere and pure:                                                         hard

Be it granted me to behold you again in dying,                                 me gegeven
Hills of home! and to hear again the call;
Hear about the graves of the martyrs the peewees crying,                vliegenvangers
And hear no more at all.

Carl Sandburg (1878-1967)

Fog

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches                            op zijn hurken
and then moves on.

Thomas, aangemoedigd door o.a. Robert Frost om poëzie te gaan schrijven, schreef al zijn gedichten terwijl in Engeland in opleiding was om te gaan vechten tegen de Duitsers. Hij kwam om in Arras, vlak nadat hij in frankrijk was aangekomen.

Edward Thomas (1878 – 1917)

Rain

Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain
On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me                         grauwe, eenzaamheid
Remembering again that I shall die
And neither hear the rain nor give it thanks
For washing me cleaner than I have been
Since I was born into this solitude.
Blessed are the dead that the rain rains upon:
But here I pray that none whom once I loved
Is dying to-night or lying still awake
Solitary, listening to the rain,
Either in pain or thus in sympathy                                  uit solidariteit
Helpless among the living and the dead,
Like a cold water among broken reeds,                           riet/pijlen
Myriads of broken reeds all still and stiff,                         talloze
Like me who have no love which this wild rain
Has not dissolved except the love of death,                      ontbonden
If love it be towards what is perfect and
Cannot, the tempest tells me, disappoint.                        teleurstellen

Louis MacNeice (1907 –1963)

The Sunlight on the Garden

The sunlight on the garden
Hardens and grows cold,
We cannot cage the minute 
Within its nets of gold;
When all is told
We cannot beg for pardon.

Our freedom as free lances                   onbelemmerde lansen
Advances towards its end;                    gaat voort
The earth compels, upon it                   drijft hem voort
Sonnets and birds descend; 
And soon, my friend,
We shall have no time for dances.

The sky was good for flying
Defying the church bells                      trotserend
And every evil iron
Siren and what it tells:
The earth compels,
We are dying, Egypt, dying

And not expecting pardon,                  vergiffenis
Hardened in heart anew,                    opnieuw
But glad to have sat under
Thunder and rain with you,
And grateful too
For sunlight on the garden.

Dit gedicht gaat strikt genomen niet over het weer, maar slechts over het geluid van regen. Dus toch over regen.

Seamus Heaney (1939 -)

The Rain Stick

Up-end the stick and what happens next                         keer..om
Is a music that you never would have known
To listen for. In a cactus stalk                                        steel

Downpour, sluice-rush, spillage and backwash                 sluis-, lekkage, terugloop
Come flowing through. You stand there like a pipe
Being played by water, you shake it again lightly

And diminuendo runs through all its scales                        zachter, toonladders
Like a gutter stopping trickling. And now here comes         goot, druppelen
A sprinkle of drops out of the freshened leaves,                buitje

Then subtle little wets off grass and daisies;                     madeliefjes
The glitter-drizzle, almost-breaths of air.                         Glimmende motregen
Up-end the stick again. What happens next

Is undiminished for having happened once,                    onverminderd
Twice, ten, and thousand times before.
Who cares if all the music that transpires                       uitgewasemd wordt

Is the fall of grit or dry seeds through a cactus?              steengruis
You are like a rich man entering heaven
Through the ear of a raindrop.* Listen now again.

* “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven” Jezus in Mattheus 19:24

Frank Sinatra zingt het zo mooi!

Johnny Burke; Jimmy Van Heusen

Here's that rainy day
Maybe I should have saved those leftover dreams
Funny but here's that rainy day
Here's that rainy day
They told me about and I laughed at the thought
That it might turn out this way
Where is that worn-out wish that I threw aside
After it brought my love so near
Funny how love becomes a cold rainy day
Funny that rainy day is here
It’s funny how love becomes a cold rainy day
Funny that rainy day is here