Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлово "LIES"


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. * * * (How often did I curse)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
2. * * * (Somewhere is light and happy, in elation)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
3. * * * (Like a white stone at the bottom of the well)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

Примерный текст на первых найденных страницах

1. * * * (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.
2. * * * (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.
3. * * * (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.