Tuesday, April 5, 2011

How Long Is Gastritis

four poems by Nadezhda Teff

Zinaida and Dmitry Merezhkovsky






















last time I saw lying among the flowers. Silent had their hands crossed meekly, she did her hair, her cheeks painted a little. Everything as before. But his forehead, where once shone a decaying tape with a snap, now humbly and wisely was wrapped in a white tiara land a final prayer.

- My friend passing, - I whispered, - you were not warm. I wanted to be bad. Does that is brighter - really? And that amiable tenderness, which he loved his soul, mysteriously, you hid from prying eyes, modestly. I remember his poem about the cables. In them, the YES and NO. Joining

, will merge ...
And his death will be light.

What we know, my friend passing? Perhaps, behind his cold eyes closed, and radio is silent light of reconciliation with the eternal ...
I leaned over and kissed her hand dry and dead.
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. Nadezhda

Teffi
( Lojvitskaia Nadezhda Aleksandrovna ) 1872 -1952

recognized Russian writer and poet, author of numerous reports and sister of the poet Lojvitskaia Mirra.
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Monday, April 4, 2011

Apps For Stroke Victims Droid

ensure JLÉBNIKOV

















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When the verdant field glass
afternoon, the trace of dawn,
and far away, the pale sky blue thoughtfully
gets close. Ash wide

When the fire off, fire doors

rises above the entrance to the cemetery stellar
then to the white candle,
quickly through the beam fluid
will fly without a butterfly.
will touch the flame with his chest,
be immersed in the hot wave.
Look, look, lay dead. 1912

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Chapter Ottawa Silver City

arsenic


SIGHT GOES


turns off the light, my strength,
two invisible spears diamond
deafened ear, full
remote thunder and breath of the parental home;
nodes weakened muscle tone, as grizzled
oxen to the plow;
and no night glow
two wings behind my shoulders.

am a candle, I consumed during the party. Pick my wax
morning
this page will render,
how to mourn and be proud of,
how to share the last third of joy and die
slightly
the shadow of a roof light casual
posthumously, as
word.



Arseni reading this poem:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JWLwvAdmfNQ&feature=related


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