Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлово "FIND"


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. * * * (Bow of moon I see, I see)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
2. Consolation
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
3. December 9, 1913
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
4. * * * (Where is your gypsy boy, tall one)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
5. Sleep
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
6. * * * (Like a white stone at the bottom of the well)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

Примерный текст на первых найденных страницах

1. * * * (Bow of moon I see, I see)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
Часть текста: Bow of moon I see, I see Through dense canopy of groves, Level sound I hear, I hear Of the free horse's hooves. What? And you don't want to sleep, In a year could you forget Me, nor are you used to find Empty and unmade your bed? Not with you then do I speak Through sharp cries of hunting birds, Not in your eyes do I look From white pages full of words? Why you circle, like a thief At the quiet habitat? Or recall the verdict and Wait for me alive like that? I'm asleep. In dense dark, moon Threw a blade just like a dart. There is knocking. In this way Beats my warm and precious heart.
2. Consolation
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
Часть текста: You won't hear about him any longer, You won't hear about him in the wind, In the mournful fire-consumed Poland His grave you will not find. May your spirit be still an peaceful, There will be no losses now: He is new warrior of God's army, Do not be about him in sorrow. In the dear, beloved home It's sinful to cry and feel blue. Think, now you can make prayer To the man who stood up for you.
3. December 9, 1913
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
Часть текста: The darkest days of the year Must become the most clear. I can't find words to compare - Your lips are so tender and dear. Only to raise your eyes do not dare, Keeping the life of me. They're lighter than vials premier, And deadlier for me. I understand now, that we need no words, The snowed branches are light, and more, The birdcatcher, to catch birds, Has laid nets on the rivershore.
4. * * * (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."
5. Sleep
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
Часть текста: I know that you dreamed of me, That's why I could not sleep. The muddy light had turned blue And showed me the path to keep. You saw the queen's garden, White palace, luxurious one, And the black patterned fence Before resounding stone perron. You went, not knowing the way, And thinking, "Faster, faster! If only to find her now, Not wake before meeting her." And the janitor at the red gate Shouted at you, "Where to, alack!" The ice crackled and broke, Underfoot, water went black. "This is the lake, and inside There's an island," thus thought you. And then suddenly from the dark Appeared a fire hot-blue. Awakening, you did moan In harsh light of a nasty day, And then at once you called For me loudly by my name.
6. * * * (Like a white stone at the bottom of the well)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
Часть текста: Like a white stone at the bottom of the well, One memory lies in me. I cannot and I do not want to struggle, It is both joy and suffering. I think that anyone who looks into my Eyes will all at once see him. More sad and pensive he'll become That heard the story of this suffering. I know that the gods had turned People to objects, without killing mind, That divine sadness lived eternally. You're turned into my memory, I find.