Иногда сознание фиксирует определенные фрагменты окружающего мира, выхватывает их из непрерывного потока событий, свидетелями и участниками которых мы являемся. Внезапно исчезает вуаль налета и мы оказываемся лицом к лицу с настоящим ЧУДОМ творения, которому мы сопричастны.
Говорят, что сны - это двери в подсознание. Тщательно скрываемая от самого себя собственная сущность в них обнажает истинное лицо, скрытое под маской обыденности. Наши страхи, глубинные переживания в них находят выход, неся предупреждение или играя впечатлениями, словно в калейдоскопе ...
An Irish Airman Foresees His Death I know that I shall meet my fate Somewhere among the clouds above: Those that I fight I do not hate, Those that I guard I do not love: My country is Kiltartan Cross, My countrymen Kiltartan's poor, No likely end could bring them loss ...
Sara Teasdale Broadway This is the quiet hour; the theaters Hve gathered in their crowds, and steadly The million lights blaze on for few to see, Robbing the sky of stars that should be hers. A woman waits with bag and shabby furs, A somber man drifts by, and only we ...
An Irish Airman Foresees His Death I know that I shall meet my fate Somewhere among the clouds above: Those that I fight I do not hate, Those that I guard I do not love: My country is Kiltartan Cross, My countrymen Kiltartan's poor, No likely end could bring them loss ...
Dorothy Parker Observation If I don’t drive around the park, I’m pretty sure to make my mark. If I’m in bed in night by ten, I may get my looks again, If I’m abstain from fun and such, I’ll probably amount to much, But I shell stay the way I am, Because I do not give ...
Amy Lowell Anticipation I have been temperate always, But I am like to be very drunk With your coming. There have been times I feared to walk dawn he street Lest I should reel with the wine of you, And jerk against my neighbors As they go by. I am parched now, and ...
Walles Stevens Arrival ft the Waldorf Home from Guatemala, back at the Waldorf. This arrival in the wild country of the soul, All approaches gone, being completely there, Where the wild poem is a substitute For the woman one loves or ought to love, Jyf wild rhapsody ...
Sara Teasdale Union Square With the man I love who loves me not, I walked in the street lamps’ flare, We watched the world go home that night In a flood through Union Square/ I leaned to catch the word he said That were light as snowflake falling; Ah, well that he ...
Claude McKay The tropics in New York Bananas ripe and green, and ginger-root, Cocoa in pods and alligator pears, And tangerines and mangoes and grape fruit, Fit for the highest prize at parish fairs, Set in the window, bringing memories Of fruit-trees laden by low-singing ...
Памяти военных летчиков, не вернувшихся с задания, посвящается. "У военных летчиков не бывает могил" - слова ветерана - летчика, участника Великой Отечественной Войны