Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлово "TORMENT"

1. * * * (City vanished, the last house's window)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

2. Нива Жорж: Барочная поэма

Входимость: 1. Размер: 22кб.

3. * * * (The early chills are most pleasant to me)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

4. * * * (Whether to look for you on earth)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

5. * * * (Why do you pretend to be)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

6. Answer

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7. * * * (The spring was still mysteriously swooning)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

1. * * * (City vanished, the last house's window)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

Часть текста: City vanished, the last house's window Stared like one living and stark... This place is totally unfamiliar, Smells of burning, and field is dark. But when the curtain of thunder Moon had cut, indecisive and wan, We could see: On the hill, to the forest, Hobbled a handicapped man. It was frightening, that he's overcoming The three horses, sated and glad, He stood up and then again waddled Under his heavy load. We had almost failed to notice him Before the nomad-tent taking his place. Just like stars the blue eyes were shining, Lighting the tormented face. And I proffered to him the child, Raising arms with the trace of a chain He pronounced with joy and with ringing: "May your son live and healthy remain."

2. Нива Жорж: Барочная поэма

Входимость: 1. Размер: 22кб.

Часть текста: оснащая ее сложной системой цитат, но и видел ее как "трагический балет". Сложная структура текста, сложный аккомпанемент цитат, эта вечная незавершенность текста, его безостановочно меняющиеся контуры наводят на мысль, что "Поэма без героя" по своей сути - барочное произведение. Барочное, искусство и барочная эпоха - это, прежде всего, первенство зрелищных искусств, и среди зрелищных искусств - первенство балета как самого полного, эфемерного и божественного из искусств. Театр в театре, подчеркивание театральности и театра в самой жизни, спектакль смерти как самой таинственной и потрясающей сцены на этой сцене - вот компоненты барочного мироощущения. Барочное, как это прекрасно показал женевский критик Жан Руссэ3, - "враг всякой стабильной формы", оно вечно хочет зафиксировать текучесть, переходность, метаморфозу. Оно воздвигает парадоксальные памятники мимолетному: фонтаны, балеты, скульптуры - изображающие движение, как, например, знаменитая...

3. * * * (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.

4. * * * (Whether to look for you on earth)

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Часть текста: Whether to look for you on earth - I don't know if you're dead or you live - Or about you in the evening I should for you, departed, grieve. All is for you: and the daily prayer And the sleeplessness' swooning flame And the white flock of my poems And my eyes' blue violent flame. No one was dearer to me, no one, No one left me this bereft, Not even he who betrayed me to torment, Not even he who caressed, then left.

5. * * * (Why do you pretend to be)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

Часть текста: Why do you pretend to be A wind, a bird, or a stone? Why do you smile at me From the sky with a sudden dawn? Do not torment me, do not touch! Leave me to wise cares, away! The inebriated flame sways Over dried-up marshes gray. And Muse in a torn kerchief Sings disconsolate and at length. In harsh and youthful anguish Is her miraculous strength.

6. Answer

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Часть текста: The quiet April day has sent me What a strange missive. You knew that passionately in me The scary week is still alive. I did not hear those ringing bells That swam along in glazier clear. For seven days sounded copper laugh Or poured from eyes a silver tear. And I, then having closed my face As for eternal parting's moment, Lay down and waited for her grace That was not known yet as torment.

7. * * * (The spring was still mysteriously swooning)

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Часть текста: The spring was still mysteriously swooning, Across the hills wandered transparent wind And the deep lake was growing blue among us - A temple forged and kept not by mankind. You were affrighted of our first encounter, And prayed already for the second one, And now today once more is the hot evening - How low over the mountain dropped the sun.. You aren't with me, but this is not a parting: For me triumphant news is in each moment. I know that you can't even pronounce a word For so complete within you is the torment.