Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлово "GRANITE"

1. * * * (Somewhere is light and happy, in elation)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

2. * * * (He walked over fields and over village)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

3. * * * (When with a strong but tired hand)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 3кб.

1. * * * (Somewhere is light and happy, in elation)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

Часть текста: Somewhere is light and happy, in elation, Transparent, warm and simple life there is. A man across the fence has conversation With girl before the evening, and the bees Hear only the tenderest of conversation. And we are living pompously and hard And follow bitter rituals like sun When, flight past us, the unreasoned wind Interrupts speech that's barely begun. But not for anything will we change the pompous Granite city of glory, pain and lies, The glistening wide rivers' ice Sunless and murky gardens, and the voice, Though barely audible, of the Muse.

2. * * * (He walked over fields and over village)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

Часть текста: He walked over fields and over village, And asked people from afar: "Where is she, where is the happy glimmer Of her eyes that are gray stars? Here the final days of spring Come along, in turbid fire. Still more frequent, still more tender Are the dreams I have of her." And he came in the dark city In the quiet evening time He was thinking then of Venice And of London all the same. At the church both tall and dark Stepped on shining stairs' granite And he prayed then of the coming Meeting with his first delight. And above the altar made of gold Flamed away the garden of God's rays: "Here she is, here is the happy glimmer Of gray joyous stars that are her eyes."

3. * * * (When with a strong but tired hand)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 3кб.

Часть текста: When with a strong but tired hand In dreary capital of nation Upon the whiteness of the page I did record my recantations, And wind into the window round Poured in a wet and silent stream The sky was burning, burning bright With smoky dawn, it so did seem. I did not look at the Nieva, The dawn-drenched granite did not view, And it appeared that that I, awake, my Unforgettable, saw you.. But then the unexpected night Covered the before-autumn town, That, so as to assist my flight, The ashen shadows melted down. I only took with me the cross, That you had given on day of treason That wormwood steppe should be in bloom And winds, like sirens, sing in season. And here upon an empty wall He keeps me from the broodings dour And I don't fear to recall Anything - even the final hour.