Caprice piosenki

It was a bright and cheerful afternoon, Towards the end of the sunny month of June, When the north wind congregates in crowds The floating mountains of the silver clouds From the horizon - and the stainless sky Opens beyond them like eternity. All...

Iris Larioteri Santan terion Santanleri taqeo Ka interion Falir taqeo’l Sa – sa folios io, io, io? Sario lars il sa ar, Daqe aq Fal laeon Talin ril Lari vvil Iolnis feril mmisareion il A taqea turie lie il Sa o-kormes foliore il io...

Seven stars in the still water, And seven in the sky; Seven sins on the King’s daughter, Deep in her soul to lie. Roses are at her feet, (Roses are red in her red-gold hair) And O where her bosom and girdle meet Red roses are hidden there. Fa...

The Sun does arise, And make happy the skies; The merry bells ring To welcome the Spring; The skylark and thrush, The birds of the bush, Sing louder around To the bells' cheerful sound, While our sports shall be seen On the Echoing Green....

Little Fly, Thy summer's play My thoughtless hand Has brushed away. Am not I A fly like thee? Or art not thou A man like me? For I dance, And drink, and sing, Till some blind hand Shall brush my wing. If thought is life And strengt...

This little bowl is like a mossy pool In a Spring wood, where dogtooth violets grow Nodding in chequered sunshine of trees; A quiet place, still, with the sound of birds, Where, though unseen, is heard the endless song And murmur of the never restin...

Firiel looked out at three o'clock: the grey night was going; far away a golden cock clear and shrill was crowing. The trees were dark, and the dawn pale, waking birds were cheeping, a wind moved cool and frail through dim leaves creeping. She...

`Father! father! where are you going? O please do not walk so fast. Come, father, come to your little boy, Or else I shall be lost.' The night was dark, no father was there, The child was wet with dew; The mire was deep, the child did weep, And...

All the night in woe Lyca's parents go Over valleys deep, While the deserts weep. Tired and woe-begone, Hoarse with making moan, Arm in arm for days Traced the desert ways. Seven nights they sleep Among shadows deep, Dreaming see their chi...

The shadows where the Mewlips dwell Are dark and wet as ink And slow and soft rings their bell As in the slime you sink, And you sink into the slime who dare To knock upon their door While down the grinning gargoyles stare And noisome waters pour...

The road goes ever on and on Out from the door where it began Now far ahead the road has gone, Let others follow it who can. Let them a journey new begin But I at last with weary feet Will turn towards the lighted inn My evening rest and sleep t...

It’s the first mild day of March: Each minute sweeter than before The redbreast sings from the tall larch That stands beside our door. There is a blessing in the air, Which seems a sense of joy to yield To the bare trees, and mountains bare, And...

It is the hour when from the boughs The nightingale's high note is heard- It is the hour - when lovers' vows Sweet in every word They seem sweet in every whispered word. And gentle winds and waters near Make music to the lonely ear. Each flower...

It was a winter such as when birds die In the deep forests; and the fishes lie Stiffened in the translucent ice, which makes Even the mud and slime of the warm lakes A wrinkled clod as hard as brick; and when, Among their children, comfortable men...

A Elbereth Gilthoniel Silivren penna miriel O menl aglar elenath! Na-chaered palan diriel O galadhremmin ennorath, Fanuilos, le linnathon Nef aear, si nef aearon! 

Я бегу за твоей тенью В предрассветном сне, Перед пробужденьем «Traeio vnao»... Но, ничего не ответив, Ты растворился во сне, А сон растворился в рассвете... Твой портрет – полых стен полюс, Закричи мне вслед, Черно-белый голос: “Thada fas...

Как странно тихо... Кто выиграл на этот раз? Рассвет... Была ли ночь? Я снова в этом круге... Бутоны зависти Еще на распустились, Только страх По-прежнему ко мне Протягивает руки. Мне странно снова быть Застигнутой врасплох И соскользнуть в туман...

Однажды жил лебедь, один из лесных лебедей, чьим домом было полузаросшее озеро в чаще. Когда юность его прошла, он вынес из нее умение искуснее других плести венки из лилий. Что делал он днем, я не знаю; но ночью, если было ясно, он час за часом следил за игро...

Вот этот дом... Сколько нам было лет? Сны об оставленных днях – Разноцветный коллаж. Мы, разомлев от безделья, Поднимались к тебе Мимо исписанных стен На последний этаж... Комнаты... Музыка... В окнах игрушечный лес. Двери... В дверях отражения н...

Ой, вокруг меня тьма непроглядная... Заблудилась я лихолесье, В темном бору Там в чаще звериной теремок стоит, Да колодец с водою студеною. В том колодце да на заре Душа-Машенька утопилася...