Friday, January 28, 2011

How Do You Stop Paintballs From Hurting

Sergey Esenin "the stupid joy loved" ...





















And here, the stupid happiness
with white windows into the garden!
On the pond, like a beautiful swan
all the quiet sunset.

Hello, tranquility in the shadow
golden birch in the water!
On the roof a flock of jackdaws
celebrates mass for a star.

Somewhere, behind the garden, where flowers
the elder, sweet

white girl sings a soft melody.

The cold night like a blue robe,
extends from the field ...
The fresh flush of the cheeks, the stupid joy
beloved!

.
.
.
So Esenin recited and ...:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xabVgAhOHGA&feature=related

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Medical Marijuana Lip Balm How Does It Work

Fyodor Tyutchev



















.
whole day was faded, and the shadows
completely covered -
the warm summer rain poured - a jet
sounding cheerily in the leaves.
And slowly turned
if
and began to hear noises,
long - enjoyable,
immersed in thought ...

And as if conversing with herself, consciously gave

(I was at his side, dead, but alive):
"Oh, how I loved this!"
............ ...............
...........................
loved, and so, like you, love - nobody could
-
my God ... How to stand ...
And the heart did not break into pieces ...

.
.
.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Asymptomatic Shedding

"since coja alone, you must have toys Cojos" Cherubino OF GABRIAK



















"was lame from birth and small are accustomed to look like a monster. To all his toys broke their leg, because their brother and sister told him, because you're lame, lame toys you have. "

. . . -S. Makarenko, about the life of Cherubino Gabriak-


.
.
Yes, kissed and footprint
knew your sweet lips, my lips
gave it to his lips,
here is no sin.

For kissing,
lips are more tender and more pink.
why they were so rude to
on my words.

It's been four years since the fire went out
your gray eyes.
Sweeter than wine and honey
was the hour of our meeting.

remember, through the snow on the portal
the flower of the Gothic rose
how I offended you,
how you could believe.
.
.
.