Should this life sometime deceive you, Don't be sad or mad at it! On a gloomy day, submit: Trust - fair day will come, why grieve you? Heart lives in the future, so What if gloom pervade the present? All

While the poet is not required For holy sacrifice unto Apollo, Within the bustling worldly cares He is faint-heartedly immersed; Silent is his sacred lyre; His soul lies deep in wintry sleep, And of the

I loved you, and that love, to die refusing, May still - who knows! - be smouldering in my breast Pray be not pained - believe me, of my choosing I'd never have you troubled or distressed. I loved you

All harmony, all wondrous fairness, Aloof from passions and the world, She rests with tranquil unawareness In her triumphant beauty furled. When, all about her, eyes hold muster, Nor friends, nor rivals

My voice, to which love lends a tenderness and yearning, Disturbs night's dreamy calm... Pale at my bedside burning, A taper wastes away... From out my heart there surge Swift verses, streams of love,

Why, revelry's voice, are you still? Ring out, songs of Bacchus, our patron! Long life to you, maiden and matron, Ye fair ones who gave of your love with a will! Drink, friend, drink with gusto and relish!

I have endured my desire, I've ceased to love my fairy dreams, And only fruit of hearty fire - My sufferings have stayed, it seems. And under storms of cruel kismet My blooming spirit quickly died, I waited

Rose-maiden, no, I do not quarrel With these dear chains, they don't demean; The nightingale embushed in laurel, The sylvan singers' feathered queen, Does she not bear the same sweet plight, Near the proud

'Tis time, my friend, 'tis time! The heart to peace aspires: Day follows day; the rolling stream of hours Crumbles the banks of being, and you and I Had thought to live, and yet, behold, we die. Though

I loved you: love is still, perhaps, In my heart I was not completely out; But do not let it disturb you any more; I do not want to sadden you with anything. I loved you silently, hopelessly, That timidity,

In the hills of Georgia lies the night haze; Aragva bears a noise before me. I'm sad and light; my sorrow is light; My sorrow is full of you, By you, by yourself ... My despondency Nothing torments, does

Forgive me jealous dreams, My love is mad excitement? You are faithful to me: why do you love Always scare my imagination? Surrounded by fans crowd, Why do you seem to be nice to everyone, And he gives

When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich

The sky was breathing in autumn, The sun shone less often, Shorter became the day, Forests mysterious shadow Naked with a sad noise. Fog went to the fields, The geese of the screaming caravan I went to

Autumn. Forest thickets. Moss dry marshes. Lake whitish. The sky is white. The water-lilies faded, And the saffron has blossomed. Pathways are broken, The forest is empty and it's a goal. Only you are

What is love? Where is the answer to the question? This is joy and pain, These are droplets of tears. Waiting for steps And the warmth of someone's hands. Neither friends, nor enemies, Just knock, knock.

Autumn has come, Flowers dried up, And they look sadly Naked bushes. Withers and turns yellow Grass in the meadows, Only green Winter in the fields. The cloud covers the sky, The sun does not shine, The

Autumn, autumn. We invite you to visit! Autumn, autumn, There are eight weeks of fortune: With abundant breads, With high sheaves, With a leaf fall and rain, With a flying crane. Writer : Surikov I. Follow

Hello, August, you are crowned with hops, Swarthy youth satyr! We carpets under the oak stele, We are preparing a feast in the forest! .. August is cute! The boy is swarthy! Like us, you are also drunk.

Summer goes slowly - The last days burn, It's all sad, of course, That the leaves are already flying ... With the sun getting lower and lower, That the rain goes on tirelessly, And it seems: autumn is