Pieces home15: Under my own window White is birch’s hue — Snowy blanket-shadow, Silver patterned too. On its fluffy branches With a snowy hem Tassels’ blossom blanches — Fringe’s icy gem. Standing, birch is yearning, Silent, sleepy spire, Falling snow is burning In its golden fire. Lazy dawn in wrinkles, Circling all around, Now its branches sprinkles — Newly silver-crowned. Sergey Esenin home15: Farewell, my good friend, farewell. In my heart, forever, you’ll stay. May the fated parting foretell That again we’ll meet up someday. Let no words, no handshakes ensue, No saddened brows in remorse, - To die, in this life, is not new, And living’s no newer, of course. Sergey Esenin (Post deleted by home15 ) home15: The Dnieper is wonderful in calm weather, when full of water it is freely and smoothly speeding through the forests and mountains. No stirring; no thundering. As you glance, you do not know whether its majestic width is moving or not, and you fancy as if it is made of glass, and a blue mirror road, without the measure in width, with no end in length is streaming and winding through the green world. Sweet it is then for the burning sun to peep at itself from the heights and to plunge its beams in the cool of its glassy waves, and for the forests on the banks to watch their bright reflections in the water. Wreathed in green, they press with the wild flowers close to the river’s edge, and bending over look in and are never tired of gazing and admiring their bright reflection, and smile and greet it with nodding branches. In mid-Dnieper they dare not look: none but the sun and the blue sky gaze into it; a rare bird will fly to the middle of the Dnieper. Magnificent! There is no equal river in the world. Nikolai Gogol "Evenings on a Farm Near Dikanka" (excerpt A rare bird). (Post deleted by home15 ) home15: ---------------------------------------------------------- The sky was breathing the fall coolness, The sun was shining so much less, Days turned to gray, became such short, Forests were taking off their gold Mysterious canopy with sad noise, On fields white thick fog was lying, Cackling, a geese flock was flying To the South: the quite monotonous Time was approaching quickly; November stood close really. Alexander Pushkin (Post deleted by home15 ) home15: The Angel Through the midnight sky an angel flew And a quiet song she sang; And the moon, and stars, and clouds gathered 'round To hear her holy song. She sang of the bliss of innocent spirits Under the crest of the gardens of paradise; She sang of the magnificent God and Her praise was unpretended. In her arms she carried an infant soul, Bound for a world of sorrow and tears; And within the young soul the sound of his songs Remained, without words, but alive. Long it languished in the world, Filled with a marvelous craving, While the tedious songs of earth could not Replace for it the sounds of heaven. Mikhail Lermontov  Painted_Turtle_1970: Somewhere Amazing I want to be somewhere amazing Beautiful and peaceful A thunderstorm Crying tears of joy Tears of suffering Enwrapped in one existence The pain of life So bitter So sweet Can we know joy without sorrow Can we know happiness without discontentment Eternal living versus spiritual death The duality of the human condition To have the will The determination The drive To embrace the rain and learn to dance In spite of the damp and cold God, grant me serenity, courage, wisdom Change my life Save my soul My spirit My psyche Make we willing To do the things that are challenging Unfamiliar Terrific and exciting and in this life Let me be somewhere amazing. - Mary 11/08/2109 |
