Someone mention Lord Byron so I can rectify this.

I checked out Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats after you mentioned it in another thread. Here it is :):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x9v0...RAXzI7UX0k-NtN

Charles Baudelaire. There are some English or Italian poets whose poetries I liked when I studied them at school, but Baudelaire beats them all.

Robert Frost

T.S. Eliot.

Dr. Seuss

An excerpt from Aleister Crowley's "Leah Hirsig"

http://dangerousminds.net/content/up...65_336_int.jpg

Walt Whitman
Wallace Stevens
Sylvia Plath
Emily Dickinson
Elizabeth Bishop
Robert Frost
E.E. Cummings
Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī
Pablo Neruda
Rainer Maria Rilke

Nina Cassian, Anne Carson, D.H. Lawrence, Louise Gluck, Anna Akhmatova, Richard Siken, Pablo Neruda, Lord Byron, C.K. Williams and millions more I'm not remembering right now.
Edit: And Leonard Cohen! Can't forget him.
Edit #23423423: And H.D.!

This is my favorite one by Siken:

The Love Song of the Square Root of Minus One

I am the wind and the wind is invisible, all the leaves tremble but I
am invisible, blackbird over the dark field but I am invisible, what
fills the balloon and what it moves through, knot without rope, bloom
without flower, galloping without the horse, the spirit of the thing
without the thing, location without dimension, without a within, song
without throat, word without ink, wingless flight, dark boat in the
dark night, shine without light, pure velocity, as the hammer is a
hammer when it hits the nail and the nail is a nail when it meets the
wood and the invisible table begins to appear out of mind, pure mind,
out of nothing, pure thinking, hand of the mind, hand of the emperor,
arm of the empire, void and vessel, sheath and shear, and wider, and
deeper, more vast, more sure, through silence, through darkness, a
vector, a violence, and even farther, and even worse, between, before,
behind, and under, and even stronger, and even further, beyond form,
beyond number, I labor, I lumber, I fumble forward through the valley
as winter, as water, a shift in the river, I mist and frost, flexible
and elastic to the task, a fountain of gravity, space curves around me,
I thirst, I hunger, I spark, I burn, force and field, force and
counterforce, agent and agency, push to your pull, parabola of will,
massless mass and formless form, dreamless dream and nameless name,
intent and rapturous, rare and inevitable, I am the thing that is
hurtling towards you…

Anyone else really reluctant to read translated poetry?
I know firsthand how much even a good translation can ruin literature and with poetry this seems to be even more of an issue than with prose.
I just can't read any translated poem without that thought lingering in my head and overshadowing everything else.