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Cлова начинающиеся на букву "F"

1. * * * (True love's memory, You are heavy!)

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Часть текста: True love's memory, You are heavy! In your smoke I sing and burn, And the rest - is only fire To keep the chilled soul warm. To keep warm the sated body, They need my tears for this Did I for this sing your song, God? Did I take part of love for this? Let me drink of such a poison, That I would be deaf and dumb, And my unglorious glory Wash away to the final crumb.

2. * * * (When with a strong but tired hand)

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Часть текста: When with a strong but tired hand In dreary capital of nation Upon the whiteness of the page I did record my recantations, And wind into the window round Poured in a wet and silent stream The sky was burning, burning bright With smoky dawn, it so did seem. I did not look at the Nieva, The dawn-drenched granite did not view, And it appeared that that I, awake, my Unforgettable, saw you.. But then the unexpected night Covered the before-autumn town, That, so as to assist my flight, The ashen shadows melted down. I only took with me the cross, That you had given on day of treason That wormwood steppe should be in bloom And winds, like sirens, sing in season. And here upon an empty wall He keeps me from the broodings dour And I don't fear to recall Anything - even the final hour.

3. * * * (Not thus, from cursed lightness having disembarked)

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Часть текста: Not thus, from cursed lightness having disembarked, I look with worry on the chambers dark? Already used to ringing high and raw, Already judged not by the earthly law, I, like a criminal, am being drawn along To place of shame and execution long. I see the glorious city, and the voice most dear, As though there is no secret grave to fear, Where day and night, in heat and in cold bent, I must await the Final Judgment.

4. * * * (The fifth time of the year)

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Часть текста: The fifth time of the year, Only the praise of his. Breathe with the final freedom, Because love is this. The sky has flown up high, The objects' contours are light, And the body does not celebrate any longer The anniversary of its plight.

5. * * * (He walked over fields and over village)

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Часть текста: He walked over fields and over village, And asked people from afar: "Where is she, where is the happy glimmer Of her eyes that are gray stars? Here the final days of spring Come along, in turbid fire. Still more frequent, still more tender Are the dreams I have of her." And he came in the dark city In the quiet evening time He was thinking then of Venice And of London all the same. At the church both tall and dark Stepped on shining stairs' granite And he prayed then of the coming Meeting with his first delight. And above the altar made of gold Flamed away the garden of God's rays: "Here she is, here is the happy glimmer Of gray joyous stars that are her eyes."