No ordinary love
Однажды в моём сердце вспыхнула любовь —
Неординарная.
Я думала, со временем пройдёт,
Но оказалось навсегда
Однажды в моём сердце вспыхнула любовь —
Неординарная.
Я думала, со временем пройдёт,
Но оказалось навсегда
Упрямых скул поворот,
Прикосновенье рук
Стены звенят тишиной,
Тугой, как натянутый лук
The flower in the glass peanut bottle formerly in the kitchen crooked to take a place in the light, the closet door opened, because I used it before, it kindly stayed open waiting for me, its owner
I began to feel my misery in pallet on floor...
Young laughters, and my music
Aye till now The voice can reach no blending minors near; 'Tis the bird's trill because the spring is here And spring means trilling on a blossomy bough; 'Tis the spring joy that has no why or how,
But sees ...
A world, a whole world just waiting for us to make our mark.
UD music of the storm
Blast that careers so free, whistling across the prairies
Strong hum of forest tree-tops
Wind of the mountains
Music I heard with you was more than music,
And bread I broke with you was more than bread;
Now that I am without you, all is desolate;
All that was once so beautiful is dead
All sounds have been as music to my listening:
Pacific lamentations of slow bells,
The crunch of boots on blue snow rosy-glistening,
Shuffle of autumn leaves; and all farewells:
My friend went to the piano; spun the stool A little higher; left his pipe to cool;
Picked up a fat green volume from the chest;
And propped it open
Whitely without rest,
A vase upon the mantelpiece, A ship upon the sea,
A goat upon a mountain-top Are much the same to me;
But when you mention melon jam, Or picnics by the creek,
Or apple pies, or pantomimes, I love to hear you speak
Be music, night,
That her sleep may go Where angels have their pale tall choirs Be a hand, sea,
That her dreams may watch Thy guidesman touching the green flesh of the world Be a voice, sky,
That her beauties may be counted And the ...
They say that Hope is happiness;
But genuine Love must prize the past,
And Memory wakes the thoughts that bless:
They rose the first--they set the last;