Cлово "SORROW"


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. Consolation
Входимость: 1.
2. Village of the Tsar Statue
Входимость: 1.
3. July 1914
Входимость: 1.
4. * * * (My voice is weak, but will does not get weaker)
Входимость: 1.

Примерный текст на первых найденных страницах

1. Consolation
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
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.
2. Village of the Tsar Statue
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
Часть текста: Upon the swan pond maple leaves Are gathered already, you see, And bloodied are the branches dark Of slowly blooming quicken-tree. Blindingly elegant is she, Crossing her legs that don't feel cold Upon the northern stone sits she And calmly looks upon the road. I felt the gloomy, dusky fear Before this woman of delight As on her shoulders played alone The rays of miserable light. And how could I forgive her yet Your shining praise by love deluded Look, she is happily in sorrow, And in such elegance denuded.
3. 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."
4. * * * (My voice is weak, but will does not get weaker)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.
Часть текста: My voice is weak, but will does not get weaker. It has become still better without love, The sky is tall, the mountain wind is blowing My thoughts are sinless to true God above. The sleeplessness has gone to other places, I do not on grey ashes count my sorrow, And the skewed arrow of the clock face Does not look to me like a deadly arrow. How past over the heart is losing power! Freedom is near. I will forgive all yet, Watching, as ray of sun runs up and down The springtime vine that with spring rain is wet.

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