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Cлово "RING"


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. July 1914
Входимость: 1. Размер: 3кб.
2. * * * (Where is your gypsy boy, tall one)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
3. White House
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

Примерный текст на первых найденных страницах

1. 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."
2. * * * (Where is your gypsy boy, tall one)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
Часть текста: "Where is your gypsy boy, tall one, That over black kerchief did weep, Where is your small first child What memory of him do you keep?" "Mother's role is a sweet torture, I was not worthy of it. The gate dissolved into white heaven, Magdalene took the kid. "Each day for me is happy and jolly, I got lost in a too-long spring, Only arms pine away for a burden Only his cries in my sleep ring. "The heart will be restless and weary And no memory cross my mind, I still wander in rooms dark and bleary And his crib still attempt to find."
3. White House
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
Часть текста: Sun is frosty. In parade Soldiers march with all their might. I am glad at the January noon, And my fear is very light. Here they remember each branch And every silhouette. The raspberry light is dripping Through a snow-whitened net. Almost white was the house, Made of glass was the wing. How many times with numb arm Did I hold the doorbell's ring. How many times.. play, soldiers, I'll make my house, I'll espy You from a roof that's inclined, From the ivy that does not die. But who at last did remove it, Took away into foreign lands Or took out from the memory Forever the road thence.. Snow flies, like a cherry blossom, Distant bagpipes desist.. And, it seems like, nobody knows That the white house does not exist.