December 23, 2024 8:02 pm

SWEET FRIEND, I DO NOT BELIEVE – Poetry by Vladimir Solovyov

SWEET FRIEND, I DO NOT BELIEVE Sweet friend, I do not believe your words, your senses, your eyes, and even to myself. I think only the stars that shine at the top. For a milky path, the stars send me infallible dreams, and in the desert boundless they breed for me heavenly flowers. And in that eternal summer, including those …

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ALL THE LIGHT WE CANNOT SEE – Romance, by Antony Doerr

ALL THE LIGHT WE CANNOT SEE Marie-Laure lives with her father in Paris near the Museum of Natural History, where he works as the master of its thousands of locks. A blind French girl and a German boy whose paths collide in occupied France as both try to survive the devastation of World War II. When she is six, Marie-Laure …

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I HAVE DREAM OF YOU SO – Poetry, by Robert Desnos

J’AI TANT REVE DE TOI > J’ai tant rêvé de toi, que tu perds ta réalité. Est-il encore temps d’atteindre ce corps vivant et de baiser sur cette bouche la naissance de la voix qui m’est chère? J’ai tant rêvé de toi que mes bras habitués en étreignant ton ombre à se croiser sur ma poitrine ne se plieraient pas …

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THE CLASSICISM OF THE TWENTIETH-CENTURY – Mario Sironi: the man who knew rework old models, through the synthesis of the forms

MARIO SIRONI 1/4 – That child will become man devoted to art, it will be a creative arts-oriented units, according to ethical and civil. He was born in May in a special house. In fact, in his family there are architects, artists, musicians. Reading Schopenhauer and Leopardi, but also playing Wagner, even as a child he passionate about the design. …

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WALTZ – Poetry, by Adam Zagajewski

WALTZ They are so bright day, so clear, that the carelessness of white powder covering even the rare slender palm trees. Snakes glide silently in the vineyards, but in the evening the sea becomes darker and the seagulls suspended in the air barely move, punctuation of a higher wrote. On your lips a drop of wine. The limestone mountains on …

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ONE HEARS STILL THE SEA – Poetry, by Salvatore Quasimodo

SI ODE ANCORA IL MARE > Già da più notti si ode ancora il mare, lieve, su e giù, lungo le sabbie lisce. Eco d’una voce chiusa nella mente, che risale dal tempo. Ed anche questo lamento assiduo di gabbiani, forse d’uccelli delle torri, che l’aprile sospinge verso la pianura. Già mi eri vicina tu, con quella voce. Ed io …

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TAKE ME ALONG EMPTY BOULEVARDS – Poetry, Boris Ryžhy

TAKE ME ALONG EMPTY BOULEVARDS Take me along empty boulevards, tell me about some nonsense, vaguely pronounce a name. The street lights mourn the summer. Two lampposts mourn the summer. Rowan bushes. A wet bench. My love, stay with me until dawn, then leave me. Remained like a shadow blurred, I will roam here a while ‘, will remember everything, …

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TAKE ME WITH YOU – Poetry, Attilio Bertolucci

PORTAMI CON TE > Portami con te nel mattino vivace, le reni rotte l’occhio sveglio, appoggiato al tuo fianco di donna che cammina come fa l’amore. Sono gli ultimi giorni dell’inverno a bagnarci le mani, e i camini fumano più del necessario, in una stagione così tiepida. Ma lascia che vadano in malora, economia e sobrietà, si consumino le scorte …

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I CAN NOT GIVE MORE – Poetry, by Pedro Salinas

IO NO PUEDO DARTE MAS > Yo no puedo darte más. No soy más que lo que soy. ¡Ay, cómo quisiera ser arena, sol, en estío! Que te tendieses descansada a dascansar. Que me dejaras tu cuerpo al marcharte, huella tierna, tibia, inolvidable. Y que contigo se fuese sobre ti, mi beso lento: color, desde la nuca al talón, moreno. …

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TIME LOVERS – FrantiÅ¡ek Hrubín Poetry

TIME LOVERS You wrap on the finger straw, there on the finger, where you dreamed a gold ring. I still conversed with the sun, and you already impallidivi in the moon. Behind us, suddenly he began to rustle. And posasti the shadow head, on its leaves. Capello after the hair, it took you. It only for the burning nettles, jealousy …

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HORIZONS OF GLORY – When a bell can save a city: Brno and the Petrov hill

One of the strengths of this city is its compact historical center, almost completely devoid of traffic congestion in our cities. Corner above the old city of Brno, in the south-west we can find the most quiet streets of the whole city. All these roads embrace the Petrov Hill, the one where we’re going, walking for Biskupska. As you see, …

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