Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлово "HAPPINESS"


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. * * * (In intimacy there exists a line)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
2. * * * (I came over to the pine forest)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
3. * * * (How often did I curse)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
4. * * * (Has my fate really been so altered)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

Примерный текст на первых найденных страницах

1. * * * (In intimacy there exists a line)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
Часть текста: In intimacy there exists a line That can't be crossed by passion or love's art - In awful silence lips melt into one And out of love to pieces bursts the heart. And friendship here is impotent, and years Of happiness sublime in fire aglow, When soul is free and does not hear The dulling of sweet passion, long and slow. Those who are striving toward it are in fever, But those that reach it struck with woe that lingers. Now you have understood, why forever My heart does not beat underneath your fingers.
2. * * * (I came over to the pine forest)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
Часть текста: I came over to the pine forest. It is hot, and the road is not short. He pushed back the door and came out Greyhaired, luminous, short. He looked at me, insolent bastard, And muttered at once, "Christ's bride! Do not envy success of the happy, A place for you there does hide. Do forget your parents' abode, Get accustomed to open heaven You will sleep on the straw and dirty, And will meet a blissful end." Truly, the priest must have heard On the way back my singing voice As I of untold happiness Marveled and rejoiced.
3. * * * (How often did I curse)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
Часть текста: How often did I curse This sky, this earth as well, The slowly waving arms Of this ancient windmill. In a wing there lies a dead man, Straight and grayhaired, on a bench, As he did three years ago. Thus the mice whet with their teeth Books, thus the stearine candle Leans its flame to the left. And the odious tambourine From the Nizhny Novgorod Sings an uningenious song Of my bitter happiness. And the brightly painted Dahlias stood straight Along silver road. Where are snails and wormwood. Thus it was: Incarceration Became second country, And the first I cannot dare Recollect even in prayer.
4. * * * (Has my fate really been so altered)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
Часть текста: Has my fate really been so altered, Or is this game truly truly over? Where are winters, when I fell asleep In the morning in the sixth hour? In a new way, severely and calmly, I now live on the wild shore. I can no longer pronounce The tender or idle word. I can't believe that Christmas-tide is coming. Touchingly green is this the steppe before The beaming sun. Like a warm Wave, licks the tender shore. When from happiness languid and tired I was, then of such quiet With trembling inexpressible I dreamed And this in my imagining I deemed The after-mortal wandering of the soul.