Анна Ахматова: Поиск по текстам произведений автора и критике. Cлово "HEAR". Классическая русская литература.

Примерный текст на первых найденных страницах

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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.

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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.

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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.

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Часть текста: The quiet April day has sent me What a strange missive. You knew that passionately in me The scary week is still alive. I did not hear those ringing bells That swam along in glazier clear. For seven days sounded copper laugh Or poured from eyes a silver tear. And I, then having closed my face As for eternal parting's moment, Lay down and waited for her grace That was not known yet as torment.

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Часть текста: In Kievan temple of the divine wisdom Falling to my knees, I did before thee vow That your way will be my way Wherever it will go. Thus heard Yaroslav in a white coffin And angels made of gold in his stead. Like pigeons, weave the simple words And now near the sunny heads. And if I get weak, I dream of an icon And there are ten steps on it, all are blessed. In menacing voice of the Sofian ringing I hear the sound of your unrest.

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Часть текста: The other cranes shout "Cour-lee" Calling a wounded one When autumn fields around Are fallow and warm. And I, being sick, hear calling, The noise of golden wings From dense and low clouds And thick underbrush. "It's time to fly, it's time to fly, Over the field and river. For you already cannot sing And wipe a tear from a cheek With a weakened arm."

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Часть текста: Black road wove ahead of me, Drizzling rain fell, To accompany me Someone asked for a spell. I agreed, but I forgot To see him in light of day, And then it was strange To remember the way. Like incense of thousand censers Flowed the fog And the companion bothered The heart with a song. Ancient gates I remember And the end of the way - There the man who went with me "Forgive," did say. He gave me a copper cross Like my brother very own And everywhere I hear the sound Of the steppe song. Here I am at home like home - I cry and I am in rue Answer to me, my stranger, I am looking for you!

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Часть текста: We noiselessly walked through the house, Not waiting for anything. They showed me way to the sick man, And I did not recognize him. He said, "Now let God have the glory" And became more thoughtful and blue. "It's long time that I hit the road, I've only been waiting for you. So you bother me in my fever, I keep those words from you. Tell me: can you not forgive me?" And I said, "I can do." It seemed, that the walls were shining From floor to the ceiling that day. Upon the silken blanket A withered arm lay. And the thrown-over predatory profile Became horribly heavy and stark, And one could not hear the breathing Through the bitten-up lips turned dark. But suddenly the last bit of strength Came alive in the eyes of blue: "It is good that you released me, Not always kind were you." And then the face became younger, And I recognized him once more. And then I said, "Holy Father, Accept a slave of yours."

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Часть текста: He was jealous, fearful and tender, He loved me like God's only light, And that she not sing of the past times He killed my bird colored white. He said, in the lighthouse at sundown: "Love me, laugh and write poetry!" And I buried the joyous songbird Behind a round well near a tree. I promised that I would not mourn her. But my heart turned to stone without choice, And it seems to me that everywhere And always I'll hear her sweet voice.

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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.

Поиск по творчеству и критикеCлово "HEAR"

Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлово "HEAR"