Lyrics, poems, verses

Eye Halve a Spelling Chequer

Eye halve a spelling chequer
It came with my pea sea
It plainly marques four my revue
Miss steaks eye kin knot sea.

Eye strike a key and type a word
And weight four it two say
Weather eye am wrong oar write
It shows me strait a weigh.

As soon as a mist ache is maid
It nose bee fore two long
And eye can put the error rite
Its rarely ever wrong.

Eye have run this poem threw it
I am shore your pleased two no
Its letter perfect in it's weigh
My chequer tolled me sew.

Вячеслав Малежик
Print the copywrites, please.

Котейка
I thought it was a kind of folklore....

There is a well-known portrait
Upon the classroom wall:
We see the face of Lenin,
So dearly loved by all.

His eyes are kind and honest,
With cleverness they burn,
He told us, soviet children
That we must learn and learn

What kind of verses will they dislike the most, perhaps these?

http://www.historyguide.org/Europe/cult.html

Это сообщение отредактировал QuestPC - 16.06.2009 - 13:58

Maria Vasilyevna- please may I come in?
Maria Vasilyevna- please may I come in?
I’m so sorry, I’m late for a class- and you will surely kick my ass
Everybody want to kick my ass
But Maria Vasilyevna- I’m not on duty today!

perfect day

Just a perfect day
Drink sangria in the park
And then later when it gets dark we go home

Just a perfect day
Feed animals in the zoo
And then later, a movie too and then home

Oh it's such a perfect day
I'm glad I spend it with you
Oh such a perfect day
You just keep me hanging on

A song about a friend
If your friend just became a man,
Not a friend, not a foe,-- just so,
If you really can't tell from the start,
If he's strong in his heart, --
To the peaks take this man -- don't fret!
Do not leave him alone, on his own,
Let him share the same view with you--
Then you'll know if he's true.
If the guy on the peak got weak,
If he lost all his care -- got scared,
Took a step on the frost -- got lost,
Tripped and screamed in exhaust, --
Then the one you held close is false,
Do not bother to yell-- expel, --
We can't take such aboard, and in short
We don't sing of his sort.
If the guy didn't whine nor pine,
He was dull and upset, but went,
When you slipped from the cliff,
He heaved, holding you in his grip;
If he walked right along, seemed strong,
On the top stood like he belonged, --
Then, whenever the chances are slim
You can count on him!

Robert Frost-Acquainted with the Night

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain --and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height
One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

Why do the good dancers die young?
Is it that time passes faster with fun?

Why is the sky and my spirit blue
when I think of my darling, you?

So I will endure, and I will go on.
I will find new love and write a new song.

A song, one of my favourite. One of the first i learned by heart.

Laying on your holy bed
By the hallowed door
Feeling like an infidel
Not worthy of your call
Tempted by your innocence
Beckoned to my fate
I won't face the consequence
I wouldn't hesitate

I'm a man of flesh and bone
Rapture
Rushing through my veins
Passion
Flaming
In my heart
Heavenly surrender once again


Shackled like an animal
Chained to my desires
Just another sacrifice
To love's eternal fight
Tame me with your tenderness
And break my brittle heart
Easily and elegantly
Tear my world apart

I'm a man of flesh and bone
Rapture
Rushing through my veins
Passion
Flaming
In my heart
Heavenly surrender once again
Yeah

Guess who...

Это сообщение отредактировал Lucky Strike - 15.07.2010 - 16:16

its one of my favourite songs)

The best poem I've ever read.

William Shakespeare - Sonnet 23 As an unperfect actor on the stage

As an unperfect actor on the stage
Who with his fear is put besides his part,
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,
Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart.
So I, for fear of trust, forget to say
The perfect ceremony of love's rite,
And in mine own love's strength seem to decay,
O'ercharged with burden of mine own love's might.
O, let my books be then the eloquence
And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,
Who plead for love and look for recompense
More than that tongue that more hath more express'd.
O, learn to read what silent love hath writ:
To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.

If I had a stallion
It would be a trick...
If the stallion had me
I should have been sick...

My favorite poet is Andrey Voznesensky. There're some translations of his poems to english in Internet. Let's read one of them! Rythm and style of translation is author's-like, I think.

THE PARABOLIC BALLAD

My life, like a rocket, makes a parabola

flying in darkness, — no rainbow for traveler.



There once lived an artist, red-haired Gauguin,

he was a bohemian, a former tradesman.

To get to the Louvre

from the lanes of Montmartre

he circled around

as far as Sumatra!



He had to abandon the madness of money,

the filth of the scholars, the snarl of his honey.

The man overcame the terrestrial gravity,

The priests, drinking beer, would laugh at his «vanity»:

«A straight line is short, but it is much too simple,

He’d better depict beds of roses for people.»



And yet, like a rocket, he flew off with ease

through winds penetrating his coat and his ears.

He didn’t fetch up to the Louvre through the door

but, like a parabola,

pierced the floor!



Each gets to the truth with his own parameter

a worm finds a crack, man makes a parabola.



There once lived a girl in the neighboring house.

We studied together, through books we would browse.

Why did I leave,

moved by devilish powers

amidst the equivocal

Georgian stars!



I’m sorry for making that silly parabola,

The shivering shoulders in darkness, why trouble her?...

Your rings in the dark Universe were dramatic,

and like an antenna, straight and elastic.



Meanwhile I’m flying

to land here because

I hear your earthly and shivering calls.



It doesn’t come easy with a parabola!..

For wiping prediction, tradition, preamble off

Art, History, Love and Àesthetics

Prefer

to take parabolical paths, as it were!



He leaves for Siberia now, on a visit.



..............................................................................

It isn’t so long as parabola, is it?