Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлово "CHILD"


А Б В Г Д Е Ж З И Й К Л М Н О П Р С Т У Ф Х Ц Ч Ш Щ Э Ю Я
0-9 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
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1. * * * (Where is your gypsy boy, tall one)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
2. * * * (City vanished, the last house's window)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
3. * * * (Best for me loudly the gaming-poems to say)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
4. Prayer
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

Примерный текст на первых найденных страницах

1. * * * (Where is your gypsy boy, tall one)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
Часть текста: "Where is your gypsy boy, tall one, That over black kerchief did weep, Where is your small first child What memory of him do you keep?" "Mother's role is a sweet torture, I was not worthy of it. The gate dissolved into white heaven, Magdalene took the kid. "Each day for me is happy and jolly, I got lost in a too-long spring, Only arms pine away for a burden Only his cries in my sleep ring. "The heart will be restless and weary And no memory cross my mind, I still wander in rooms dark and bleary And his crib still attempt to find."
2. * * * (City vanished, the last house's window)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
Часть текста: City vanished, the last house's window Stared like one living and stark... This place is totally unfamiliar, Smells of burning, and field is dark. But when the curtain of thunder Moon had cut, indecisive and wan, We could see: On the hill, to the forest, Hobbled a handicapped man. It was frightening, that he's overcoming The three horses, sated and glad, He stood up and then again waddled Under his heavy load. We had almost failed to notice him Before the nomad-tent taking his place. Just like stars the blue eyes were shining, Lighting the tormented face. And I proffered to him the child, Raising arms with the trace of a chain He pronounced with joy and with ringing: "May your son live and healthy remain."
3. * * * (Best for me loudly the gaming-poems to say)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
Часть текста: Best for me loudly the gaming-poems to say, And for you the hoarse harmonica to play! And having left, hugging, for the night of late, Lose a band from a stiff, tight plait. Best for me your child to rock and sway, And for you to make fifty rubles in a day, And to go on memory day to cemetery There to look upon the white God's lilac tree.
4. Prayer
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
Часть текста: Give me bitter years in malady Breathlessness, sleeplessness, fever, Both a friend and a child and mysterious Gift take away forever - Thus I pray after your liturgy After many exhausting days, That the cloud over dark Russia Become cloud in the glory of rays.