Author of quotes: Paul Verlaine. Page 2

Sadness, Joy, wretched Wanderers!
You, heart, again, Oganov yesterday
Breaking out - all over; the game is over!
And shadows from the spoils did not hold the fingers!

I know I have - before the inevitable,
Before something bitter and terrible.

Kiss fragile hand,
Twinkle shimmering harpsichord,
Illuminating the gloom of the city.
And a faint echo, a cute and vintage.
So arabelo wanders through the living room,
Where are all through separation and longing.

Rush to us for the summer! Change carovani
It take turns for autumn and winter!
Praise to you who created all the faces
Time, imagination, and mind.

Rush to us for the summer! Change carovani
It take turns for autumn and winter!
Praise to you who created all the faces
Time, imagination, and mind.

Your cute face imagination
Not tired to draw.
You like and love you -
Here is the heart of the eternal aspiration.

Two months is already a long two weeks
More! One of the things that torments us hitherto,
To be away - alas! - geocisa of the troubles!
We write every day, write us back...
We recreate the memory of his movement,
The sound of the voice, facial features and expressions
And mentally lead the conversation for two...
But the letters, but dreams... are not approved by them.
As heart aspired, dal stays dal,
She was pale, and gives a vague sadness.

Yesterday among a tiny talk,
My eyes searched your sight;
Your eyes wandered, searching my eyes,
Meanwhile fled, rippling, flow of speeches.
The sounds of the phrases in normal temper
Around your thoughts, my love is wandering.
Absent-minded I caught your speech,
So that the secret thoughts of quick words to remove.

Headlong flying landscape in the window of the carriage.
Fields, hills, plains with the sky,
Trees, river, herds of goats
Pressure movement coming down the slope,
And backwards flying, obedient avalanche,
Poles and string Telegraph lines.

A morning in the sun wheat gold
Gently heated, the dew still glistening.
Night freshness of the blue are still clear.
Leave the house, though there is no need; visible
On the waves of fragile grass flowing into the distance, yellowing,
Alder old overgrown alley.
To breathe easily. Sometimes, to fly in the garden,
Straw carries a birdie or fruit;
Behind her on the water flickering lights.
That's all. Dreamer Mila this picture.

The forest seemed frozen,
Twilight and the rest.
Our feverish fervor
We fill the silence.
And the silent spruce,
Sleepily whispering oak
Drink slowly hops
Our souls, our lips.

Your soul, as the sacred garden,
Where a fine mask -
They discharged, but sad look,
The sadness in the melody of the lute, the sound of dancing.

Dim dawns
Painted Dali,
The sunset, like a sea
Evening sadness
Wrong Zori
I was seasick,
Forget about the mountain
In the sunset of sadness.

I often see a dream, captivating and strange:
I dream of a woman. I don't know her;
But with it we are bound by love is constant,
And she, only her can understand me.