I'm looking in the face of frost alone:He is - to nowhere, I'm - nowhere from,A plain around is pressed, ironed out,The living suface's any wrinkle without.And sun is screwing it eyes in a starched poverty,It's look is silent, and rath...

If you stop loving me - as in this time,When all the world keeps me in dissension,Then be the hardest losses, but not lastOf drops of heavy grief to render!And if I'm able to sustain the woeWithout a blow from the ambush dark,T...

- Wait!.. -And in silence again:- Wait...To the darkened landthe unyielding twighlight was pressed.The straight, as the truth, rainsare beating the full buds.And the wet birds are shivering on the huddled branches.T...

When you are swearing,that you're the perfect sampleOf the pure truth without any doubt,I trust you, though understand your lie,And you think, that I'm a teenager blind.And flattered with the feeling,that I canLook as a youngman,de...

Dissuasionby Evgeny BaratynskyThe beautiful lyrical romanceOh, never mind, don't tempt me, dear,With the return of your caress,I'm disappointed and feel nowThe cold to joy of old days!Now I believe not in the oaths,...

Ah, if the martyr of the loveIs suffering of a hopeless passion;Though sad, you may live then, alas,My friends, for many- many years.But after long-long period howCould your girl-friend to embrace -The object of your strong desire,...

См. http://www.stihi.ru/2009/05/15/5077---By Denis BaramzinBy the night attack the town was defeated -The multilingual horde of feathered intouristsHas rushed as a boiling flood on town streetsAnd occupied all space of it....

And stealthily Time in its skilful mannerIs making a mysterious play,The holiday for eyes, but simultaneouslyIt takes away all things, we'd luck to have.The impetious flow of the hours and daysTakes summer to the twilights of the w...

For you - the true queens of my soul,For you - the beauties, only you,With my firm hand I Iightly wroteThe tales of the old days anewDuring the fluent whisper talkingAbout this, about that During the golden leisure hours;The wo...

You are - the music, but the music soundsYou listen with some kind of melancholy.Why do you like that mournful things; why are youSo joyous, when you meet a torture?Where is the secret of that inner torture?Isn't that the reason to...