Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлова начинающиеся на букву "E"

1. White Flock

Входимость: 1. Размер: 10кб.

Часть текста: see) * * * (City vanished, the last house's window) * * * (Did for this, and for this only) * * * (Did not scold me, did not praise me) * * * (Divine angel, who betrothed us) * * * (Every evening I receive) * * * (From memory of you I will remove that day) * * * (God is unkind to gardeners and reapers) * * * (Has my fate really been so altered) * * * (He walked over fields and over village) * * * (He was jealous, fearful and tender) * * * (How can you look at Nieva) * * * (How I love, how I loved to stare) * * * (How often did I curse) * * * (How spacious are these squares) * * * (I came over to the pine forest) * * * (I do not count mortal days) * * * (I dream less of him, dear God be gloried) * * * (I have ceased and desisted from smiling) * * * (I have visions of hilly Pavlovsk) * * * (I know, that you are my reward) * * * (I myself have freely chosen) * * * (I remember you only rarely) * * * (I see capital through the flurry) * * * (I was born not late and not early) * * * (I will lead a man to dear one) * * * (I will quietly in the churchyard) * * * (Immortelle's dry and pink. On the fresh heaven) * * * (In boat or in horsecart) * * * (In intimacy there exists a line) * * * (In Kievan temple of the divine wisdom) * * * (In the sleep to me is given) * * * (Instead of wisdom - experience, bare) * * * (It seems as though the voice of man) * * * (Just like a cold noreaster) * * * (Like a white stone at the bottom of the well) * * * (My shadow has remained there and is angstful) * * * (My voice is weak, but will does not get weaker) * * * (No, my prince, I am not the one) * * * (Not mystery and not sadness) * * * (Not thus, from cursed lightness having disembarked) * * * (Oh, there are unrepeated words) * * * (Oh, this was a cold day) * * * (On the blooming lilac bushes) * * * (She came up. I did not show my worry) * * * (Somewhere...

2. * * * (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.

3. * * * (I will lead a man to dear one)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

Часть текста: I will lead a man to dear one - I don't want the little joy - And I'll quietly lay to sleep The glad, tired little boy. In a chilly room once more I will pray to Mother of God, It is hard to be a hermit, To be happy is also hard. Only fiery sleep will come to me, I'll enter a temple on the hill, Five-domed, white, and stone-hewn, On the paths remembered well.

4. * * * (Ah! It is you again. You enter in this house)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

Часть текста: Ah! It is you again. You enter in this house Not as a kid in love, but as a husband Courageous, harsh and in control. The calm before the storm is fearful to my soul. You ask me what it is that I have done of late With given unto me forever love and fate. I have betrayed you. And this to repeat - Oh, if you could one moment tire of it! The killer's sleep is haunted, dead man said, Death's angel thus awaits me at deathbed. Forgive me now. Lord teaches to forgive. In burning agony my flesh does live, And already the spirit gently sleeps, A garden I recall, tender with autumn leaves And cries of cranes, and the black fields around.. How sweet it would be with you underground!

5. * * * (On the blooming lilac bushes)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

Часть текста: On the blooming lilac bushes Sky is sowing the light rain. Beats with wings upon the window The white, the white Spirits' day. For a friend to be returning From the sea - especial hour. I am dreaming of the far shore, Of the stone, sand and tower. I will enter, meeting light, On the top of one of these towers. In the land of swamps and fields There are in memory no towers. Only I will sit on the porch, There, where dense shadows lay. Help me in my fright, at last, The white, the white Spirits' day.