Cлово "MELT"


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
Поиск  
1. * * * (In intimacy there exists a line)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
2. * * * (The early chills are most pleasant to me)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
3. May Snow
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
4. * * * (When with a strong but tired hand)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 3кб.

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. * * * (The early chills are most pleasant to me)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
Часть текста: The early chills are most pleasant to me. Torment releases me when I come there. Mysterious, dark places of habitation - Are storehouses of labor and prayer. The calm and confident loving I can't surmount in this side of mine: A drop of Novgorod blood inside me Is like a piece of ice in foamy wine. And this can not in any way be corrected, She has not been melted by great heat, And what ever I began to glory - You, quiet one, shine before me yet.
3. May Snow
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
Часть текста: Upon fresh ground falls and melts At once unnoticed a thin film. The harsh and chilly spring The ripened buds does kill. Sight of early death is so horrid That I can't look at God's creation, and am riven With sadness, to which king David Millenia of life has given.
4. * * * (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.

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