greencatina @ 2009-06-19T09: 55:00
City, I will write You -
kaleidoscope of fantasy and mystery,
fine pattern of bright marbles lived fate
Within the walls of old houses,
Where home is worth the fuss,
Where no notice do not feel people look
your attentive from under the water.
City, I will write to you -
rustle of the waves of a century granite,
smell the wind,
Heaven, moody, as будто ребенок,
Терпким, как дым
От костерка на задворках, в тени
Здания школы.
Город, я напишу тебя -
Призвуком виденных снов
Утром, спросонок,
Легким
stab in the heart of an hour before dawn.
City, I'll draw your stained glass -
In the frame of the window inconspicuous building overlooking the courtyard,
echo thoughtfully leisurely steps next to the Chapel,
Striking sparks of broken mirrors, rivers and canals,
breath, deep washes away all that boiling,
whisper of water,
wipes out what did not recognize ...
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Lorna Morgan Glamour Clips Red Bikini
greencatina @ 2009-06-04T00: 17:00
There, on the shore,
Where the dawn mist rises, -
you see a pale shadow of her,
receding into the distance?
Do not walk behind her,
Even after not look for it,
After vain to escape Shadows
We were taught always ...
fragile shoulders,
body through flexible,
For radiant smile
not immediately uglyadet,
With her eyes
colors of gray, moss,
dies unthinkable
a human heart.
On the day of wintry
helping hand will give you,
smiles sympathetically -
Repel not take it!
fall to thinking,
inadvertently privyazheshsya,
And it will not appear
at the open door ...
Oh, her eyes
Colors quiet slough -
What thoughts are drowning there,
What's the distance they entail?
Carefree,
Neither child nor woman,
To whom you promised,
What others do not count? ..
blond curls
So magic and sparkle,
Only the wings are not angels
behind her!
Nezloblivaya ... And what
beautiful ...
not looking to overpower her,
It will carry off at the bottom!
the day
mirthless laugh, dispel the gloom -
Do not believe, then no one but the enemy,
not Celite, but the stink!
Fascinated,
not give her flowers, they
fade in her eyes
Colors summer thunderstorm ...
will be knocking on the door -
You try not to notice:
This evening nenastlivy
Requests to let the wind.
Do not keep it -
I still do not remain,
Only hand accident
burnt to the bone ...
There, on the shore,
Where the dawn mist rises, Who
unknown is waiting for her
have animal tracks? ..
not look after her,
Nothing in it is no such,
And in memory of her only snow,
whether Stardust ...
* In my opinion such Auntie must somehow be called, but the head does not suit
It seems to me, such a woman must have a name. I wonder, which one
Es scheint mir, so eine Frau muss einen Namen haben. Ich weiss ihn doch nicht *
There, on the shore,
Where the dawn mist rises, -
you see a pale shadow of her,
receding into the distance?
Do not walk behind her,
Even after not look for it,
After vain to escape Shadows
We were taught always ...
fragile shoulders,
body through flexible,
For radiant smile
not immediately uglyadet,
With her eyes
colors of gray, moss,
dies unthinkable
a human heart.
On the day of wintry
helping hand will give you,
smiles sympathetically -
Repel not take it!
fall to thinking,
inadvertently privyazheshsya,
And it will not appear
at the open door ...
Oh, her eyes
Colors quiet slough -
What thoughts are drowning there,
What's the distance they entail?
Carefree,
Neither child nor woman,
To whom you promised,
What others do not count? ..
blond curls
So magic and sparkle,
Only the wings are not angels
behind her!
Nezloblivaya ... And what
beautiful ...
not looking to overpower her,
It will carry off at the bottom!
the day
mirthless laugh, dispel the gloom -
Do not believe, then no one but the enemy,
not Celite, but the stink!
Fascinated,
not give her flowers, they
fade in her eyes
Colors summer thunderstorm ...
will be knocking on the door -
You try not to notice:
This evening nenastlivy
Requests to let the wind.
Do not keep it -
I still do not remain,
Only hand accident
burnt to the bone ...
There, on the shore,
Where the dawn mist rises, Who
unknown is waiting for her
have animal tracks? ..
not look after her,
Nothing in it is no such,
And in memory of her only snow,
whether Stardust ...
* In my opinion such Auntie must somehow be called, but the head does not suit
It seems to me, such a woman must have a name. I wonder, which one
Es scheint mir, so eine Frau muss einen Namen haben. Ich weiss ihn doch nicht *
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