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  • Cлово "RED"


    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. * * * (I remember you only rarely)
    Входимость: 2.
    2. * * * (All promised him to me)
    Входимость: 1.
    3. * * * (I have visions of hilly Pavlovsk)
    Входимость: 1.
    4. July 1914
    Входимость: 1.
    5. Sleep
    Входимость: 1.
    6. * * * (Yes, I had loved them, those meetings of the nights)
    Входимость: 1.
    7. * * * (They're on the way, the words of love and freedom)
    Входимость: 1.

    Примерный текст на первых найденных страницах

    1. * * * (I remember you only rarely)
    Входимость: 2. Размер: 2кб.
    Часть текста: I remember you only rarely And your fate I do not view But the mark won't be stripped from my soul Of the meaningless meeting with you. Your red house I avoid on purpose, Your red house murky river beside, But I know, that I am disturbing Gravely your heart-pierced respite. Would it weren't you that, on to my lips pressing, Prayed of love, and for love did wish, Would it weren't you that with golden verses Immortalized my anguish Over future I do secret magic If the evening is truly blue, And I divine a second meeting, Unavoidable meeting with you.
    2. * * * (All promised him to me)
    Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
    Часть текста: All promised him to me: The heaven's edge, dark and kind, And lovely Christmas sleep And multi-ringing Easter wind, And the red branches of a twig, And waterfalls inside a park, And two dragonflies On rusty iron of a bulwark. And I could not disbelieve, That he'll befriend me all alone When on the mountain slopes I went Along hot pathway made of stone.
    3. * * * (I have visions of hilly Pavlovsk)
    Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
    Часть текста: I have visions of hilly Pavlovsk, Meadow circular, water dead, With most heavy and most shady, All of this I will never forget. In the cast-iron gates you will enter, Blissful tremor the flesh does rile, You don't live, but you're screaming and ranting Or you live in another style. In late autumn fresh and biting Wanders wind, for its loneliness glad. In white gowns dressed the black fir trees On the molten snow stand. And, filled up with a burning fever, Dear voice sounds like song without word, And on copper shoulder of Cytharus Sits the red-chested bird.
    4. July 1914
    Входимость: 1. Размер: 3кб.
    Часть текста: I Smells like burning. For four weeks now The dry ground on the swamplands bakes. Today even birds did not sing songs And the aspen-tree does not shake. Sun has stopped in divine displeasure Easter rain did not pelt fields hard. A one-legged passerby came here And alone said in the yard: "Awful times near. For freshly dug graves There will be not be enough place soon. Expect pest, expect plague, expect coward, And eclipses of Sun and Moon. But the enemy won't get to divide Our lands for his fun: Holy Mary will spread on her own Over great sorrows a white gown" II From the burning forests is flying Sweet smell of the evergreens. Over children soldiers' wives are moaning Cry of widows through village rings. Not in vain were the prayers rendered, The earth was thirsty for rain: The stomped-over fields with red dampness Were covered and covered remain. Low, low is the empty heaven, And quiet is the praying one's voice: "They will wound your most holy body And cast dice about your acts of choice."
    5. Sleep
    Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
    Часть текста: I know that you dreamed of me, That's why I could not sleep. The muddy light had turned blue And showed me the path to keep. You saw the queen's garden, White palace, luxurious one, And the black patterned fence Before resounding stone perron. You went, not knowing the way, And thinking, "Faster, faster! If only to find her now, Not wake before meeting her." And the janitor at the red gate Shouted at you, "Where to, alack!" The ice crackled and broke, Underfoot, water went black. "This is the lake, and inside There's an island," thus thought you. And then suddenly from the dark Appeared a fire hot-blue. Awakening, you did moan In harsh light of a nasty day, And then at once you called For me loudly by my name.

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