Author of quotes: Konstantin Mikhailovich Simonov. Page 3

I'm not one of those tambourines anger beats
Who amstradam accustomed people to love.

Me until I die lazy
Life is divided into light and shadow.
I love my day - today
Day, ordinary, day as day.

I am pleased of life than sorrow bent,
The smile on the face I do not recognize sin.
But if I suddenly the tears in his throat tremble,
Let the fingers also falter under the verse.

The simple words do not come immediately,
While I will pour the sweat from his forehead;
Of them will blow an empty phrase
They're not copper pipe.

There are real things -
The souls of your books reader.
Is - his trail crawling
Book pages pageturner.

Your poem is not a bridge between good and evil,
He is the color of the banners and wounds on the battlefield.
As for the cliffs into the log of time, kink,
So cut into the verse you yourself, with your fate

Your poem you took century height
Solved dispassionately and judged biased.
Don't leave it like an orphan,
Beyond time and space!

And the sound of the wheels receding into the past,
Reminding me without pity
About how much I spent,
And about the rest of my smallness.

And wet spring trees
Youth and warm rains
And the first fear
And first trust
All left behind...

Let the cloud slowly pass over us
Let the slower the river flows. And let
The world is dividing drops eyes,
I will memorize.
Don't think I'm old, I just
Want everyone to have left a trace,
So we are not living to a hundred,
Able to live a day for ten years.
Let's not hurry the pen in the hand of the poet
Rather, the book of life complete.
Let's hope it lasts the day! Let the spinning planet!
I'm in no hurry.
I'm in no hurry.

I have to lean over flowers
Not in order to tear or be cut,
And so good to see their faces
And good person to show them.

The poet, like before you got old...
You say, happy with,
Although you spend your whole life with sorrow fed,
As the snow in the mountains it hangs
Head over to your stubborn.
And how would others never warmed you,
May be drawn to the hearts of the hearth,
All your head in the snow!

Don't think about the suffering all come to an end,
Chest keep crying - the tears will come to an end.
There will come a time of decay - the colors will come to an end.
The soul does not keep the expectations of the soul come to an end.

Let them suffer the one who knew, sorry, who didn't know.