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

1. To One Different from Others

Входимость: 2. Размер: 2кб.

Часть текста: To One Different from Others To One Different from Others Youre in no way like other women at all: You have laughter controlled and expressive, You wear dresses measured and fashionably long And you slip out from my embraces. You do not cut your hair to look upscale, Deepen brows or wear make up, You have Smirnoff, but also a nightingale Who in nature becomes his replacement, You are able to see in the sugar the salt, And in just uttered word, a full sentence. In Akhmatova you value pain without halt And in Gumilev - charm and cadence. For you, connoisseur of all kinds of verse, Sharpness of Sologubov means something, And that you and Blok never did kiss You are grieving sixth summer and counting. And in your eyes, as they are now getting well - Ocean breeze and a rye field in season. Youre in no way like other women at all, And youve become my wife for that reason.

2. Introduction

Входимость: 1. Размер: 1кб.

Часть текста: Introduction Introduction Im nightingale: no traits I carry And without special depth I sing. But everyone, from crone to baby, Will know me, singer of the spring. Im nightingale, I am a graybird, But like a rainbow is my song. I only have a single habit: To other lands to lure the throng. Im nightingale! What for, then, so Is godless critic with his scorn? Seek, swine, the treasure in a trough, And not in garlands made of thorns! Im nightingale, and, beside singing, No other use can come of me. I am so wondrous beyond reason That Reason bows before my feet!

3. Classical Roses

Входимость: 2. Размер: 1кб.

Часть текста: Classical Roses Classical Roses Once, when the dreams would bloom - the times were those - In peoples hearts, transparent and aflame, How fresh, how beautiful have been the roses Of my love, of my spring, and of my fame! The years have passed, many a tear flows - The country and its people all are lost. How fresh, how beautiful are now the roses Of memories of my delightful past! But days go by, and thunders in repose. Russia is seeking pathways to go home. How fresh, how beautiful will be the roses That my country will throw upon my tomb!

4. Poem to Refugees

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

Часть текста: Poem to Refugees Poem to Refugees In these miniature Russian colonies Those who are hiding from lawlessness Their sinful bodies and souls, Interests are so pitiful Feelings vicious and hypocritical: They seek only food and warmth. They all eat - it is only appropriate, And the warmth in our time is important too, Nobody will argue with that. But apart from the warmth and the victuals There are needs mental and spiritual, Besides breakfast and wood and coat. There is theater, symphony and poems, There are paintings, and if in Estonia There is no such delight, My compatriots, Russian terribly, Its your fault that you see things narrowly, And you lose your hearing and sight. If youll find nothing like this within this land And this village except the wheat bread, Maybe at nights we will perform Shows of music and poems, and vocalists We will give majestic performances And perhaps we will dance until dawn. Maybe well declaim aloud Gogols thought (Fess up: you did not read a lot Of his work in your life, dear friends). Maybe take something from Nekrasov And to know travels of Hatteras, if Nietzsche, for one, the powers forbid. But what are such pursuits to you Calling nothing but curses out of you Better revelry, maps and food! Better gossip, intrigue and constant complaints That for long the army should have advanced For your sake to retake Petrograd.