Выкладываем стихи англоязычных авторов в оригинале. ОП-пик — "A drinking song" Уильяма Йейтса.
InvictusOut of the night that covers me,Black as the pit from pole to pole,I thank whatever gods may beFor my unconquerable soul.In the fell clutch of circumstanceI have not winced nor cried aloud.Under the bludgeonings of chanceMy head is bloody, but unbowed.Beyond this place of wrath and tearsLooms but the horror of the shade,And yet the menace of the yearsFinds, and shall find, me unafraid.It matters not how strait the gate,How charged with punishments the scroll,I am the master of my fate,I am the captain of my soul.
A SLUMBER did my spirit seal; I had no human fears: She seemed a thing that could not feel The touch of earthly years. No motion has she now, no force; She neither hears nor sees; Rolled round in earth's diurnal course, With rocks, and stones, and trees.
Лорд Байрон.So, we'll go no more a rovingSo late into the night,Though the heart be still as loving,And the moon be still as bright.For the sword outwears its sheath,And the soul wears out the breast,And the heart must pause to breathe,And love itself have rest.Though the night was made for loving,And the day returns too soon,Yet we'll go no more a rovingBy the light of the moon
>>429298If this great world of joy and pain Revolve in one sure track; If freedom, set, will rise again, And virtue, flown, come back; Woe to the purblind' crew who fill The heart with each day's care; Nor gain, from past or future, skill To bear, and to forbear!
Robert Browning AfterTake the cloak from his face, and at firstLet the corpse do its worst!How he lies in his rights of a man!Death has done all death can.And, absorbed in the new life he leads,He recks not, he heedsNor his wrong nor my vengeance; both strikeOn his senses alike,And are lost in the solemn and strangeSurprise of the change.Ha, what avails death to eraseHis offence, my disgrace?I would we were boys as of oldIn the field, by the fold:His outrage, God's patience, man's scornWere so easily borne!I stand here now, he lies in his place:Cover the face!
Strangers we need technology,It never ends.Banter over the schoolgirls it gets.I imagine clearly what all this is over,As my pistol comes in your depot.There are only two options: From diamonds in the ass?Beautifully sucked home by candlelight.Palen champagne, or remembered like sitting handcuffed in solitary confinement clearly be amazed.How much do I now still have to pay,So as not to otebal not to bathe.I bet that everything will cost,To fuck in the mouth, bro, the main thing to cross.I want to Jupiter, to fast properly, according to Orthodoxy.Stare in restik on Fitseke,Teat like Firebird.I order a beer and tuna, sea pizza.I give my grandmother a ball and knitting needles,Little goes Tipo fuck me.I cook at home, smoked with a neighbor on the balcony,Finally home, the Jam tour.I am preparing a solo album, ufology, the mystery of the twentieth century.He brushed behind the columns,I am dating a drug dealer, at Kolomna.Took to the streets, distance to McDonald's,He stabbed me, the bell rings.No currency can not survive major.On Mars, the sky is blue, very serious garbage.It is not transmitted to the station,Fucked like Konstatsiya with Dartanyanom.And we're cornered with a hookah,Bitch, come not a market!Normal flight.We sucked alien astronaut,Caught signalsTwice even I gave in the ass,As pidaras in latex Colson.I read in a dream book that everything is bad.
John Yates - For whom the underground standsNo, no, no no words, a victory for Brawley,I purely such as fag went behind the mic,He took in his hand as chick takes dick in her mouth, as I take the microphone,And I read you show here, you young, you feel good for the cleaver came and see this show,Pipidonchik here, here, between the legs shows how to make beautiful,We are from Russia, Crimea contact with us ёpta Crimea,I was covered with salt, I was covered with salt,I Lefortovo,I have now come to the shorts, if higher, the fag, if lower, the louse,I want to fuck any thing here, I still have you in the ass vzharil,Give me a chance to stay with you only,(........)On the dick? On the dick? On the dick? Well dick? On the dick?On the dick you came ask me boys, who breathe the glue that breathing salt that breathe huyami, unwashed huyami breathe stolen,I was robbed, Spice at the entrance, I was thrown, no ice thing,You're a bitch ass naperdela,The black hole is your anus,We go into the abyss, passed as intruders, no matter how produced here - that mixture you like - if glinomesy, there is not enough of the play,Pat your hands, I will show you prick with a pair Brawley,No, no, no and Th Tipo Tipo on Egghead, Brawley, Tipo, Brawley, they say, allegedly on Egghead,Tipo good in a wig or a wig,Yes, even with an ace, you bitch please,You know for whom is underground, you remember these names,I can even stupid not ready to go there once in a lifetime,I paid a grandmother,Understand each, I'll fuck your mothers, folders, grandmothers, sisters, I'm here all you fucked in the mouth
>>429302Какой бля сложный язык
>>429844Конкретнее можно? В чём именно сложность? В грамматике? Просто подставь then в начале второй строфы.
The Rainy DayBallads and Other Poems 1842Blind BartimeusEndymionExcelsiorIt Is Not Always MayMaidenhoodThe Goblet of LifeThe Rainy DayThe day is cold, and dark, and dreary;It rains, and the wind is never weary;The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,But at every gust the dead leaves fall,And the day is dark and dreary.My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;It rains, and the wind is never weary;My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,And the days are dark and dreary.Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;Thy fate is the common fate of all,Into each life some rain must fall,Some days must be dark and dreary.
And did those feet in ancient timeWalk upon England's mountains green?And was the holy Lamb of GodOn England's pleasant pastures seen?And did the Countenance DivineShine forth upon our clouded hills?And was Jerusalem builded hereAmong these dark Satanic mills?Bring me my bow of burning gold:Bring me my arrows of desire:Bring me my spear: O clouds unfold!Bring me my chariot of fire.I will not cease from mental fight,Nor shall my sword sleep in my handTill we have built JerusalemIn England's green and pleasant land.
Ебанутые блядь. Читают стихи на английском языке. А вдруг там автор вас нахуй посылает?
>>430414https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w9TbiIEpZJ8
Fire and IceBy Robert FrostSome say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice.
>>429295 (OP)
Metting at nightThe grey sea and the long black land;And the yellow half-moon large and low;And the startled little waves that leapIn fiery ringlets from their sleep,As I gain the cove with pushing prow,And quench its speed i' the slushy sand.Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;Three fields to cross till a farm appears;A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratchAnd blue spurt of a lighted match,And a voice less loud, thro' its joys and fears,Than the two hearts beating each to each!
Autumn Related Poem Content DetailsBY JOHN CLAREThe thistledown's flying, though the winds are all still, On the green grass now lying, now mounting the hill, The spring from the fountain now boils like a pot; Through stones past the counting it bubbles red-hot. The ground parched and cracked is like overbaked bread, The greensward all wracked is, bents dried up and dead. The fallow fields glitter like water indeed, And gossamers twitter, flung from weed unto weed. Hill-tops like hot iron glitter bright in the sun, And the rivers we're eying burn to gold as they run; Burning hot is the ground, liquid gold is the air; Whoever looks round sees Eternity there.
How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth,Stolen on his wing my three and twentieth year!My hasting days fly on with full career,But my late spring no bud or blossom shew’th.Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth,That I to manhood am arrived so near,And inward ripeness doth much less appear,That some more timely-happy spirits endu’th.Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow,It shall be still in strictest measure evenTo that same lot, however mean or high,Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven;All is, if I have grace to use it so,As ever in my great Taskmaster’s eye.
>>429295 (OP)'Tis time this heart should be unmoved, Since others it hath ceased to move:Yet though I cannot be beloved, Still let me love! My days are in the yellow leaf; The flowers and fruits of Love are gone;The worm—the canker, and the grief Are mine alone! The fire that on my bosom preys Is lone as some Volcanic Isle;No torch is kindled at its blaze A funeral pile. The hope, the fear, the jealous care, The exalted portion of the painAnd power of Love I cannot share, But wear the chain. But 'tis not thus—and 'tis not here Such thoughts should shake my Soul, nor now,Where Glory decks the hero's bier, Or binds his brow. The Sword, the Banner, and the Field, Glory and Greece around us see!The Spartan borne upon his shield Was not more free. Awake (not Greece—she is awake!) Awake, my Spirit! Think through whomThy life-blood tracks its parent lake And then strike home! Tread those reviving passions down Unworthy Manhood—unto theeIndifferent should the smile or frown Of beauty be. If thou regret'st thy Youth, why live? The land of honourable DeathIs here:—up to the Field, and give Away thy breath! Seek out—less often sought than found— A Soldier's Grave, for thee the best;Then look around, and choose thy Ground, And take thy rest.
>>429295 (OP)Roses are red,Violets are blue,OP is faggot.
>>436450As well as you
>>436461)))
>>436450>>436461OP is a faggotAnd so are you.ИМХО, ритмически лучше.
