Author of quotes: Juan Ramon Jimenez

Over the mica of the river ples,
over the glass in gold castings -
Enchanted Shore in White
poplars and green willows.
Beats in the channel of a sleeping heart,
summer pours in a sleepy out of the hut,
and the river is drunk dreams
female voice and flute voice.
Enchanted shore... Willow
plunged into the deep backwater
and kiss in a dream with branches
gold glass ink.
And a hand to the sky,
and this sky flows sleepily,
blue silver mist
stroking the water surface and crowns.
Dreamed of my heart today
this shore with weeping willy wille,
and it decided for happiness
swim at the will of the wave drowsy.
But at the water itself, suddenly.
tears welled up in my eyes:
Enchanted voice sang song
a completely different mold.

Was the black Duma,
like a bird of the night
the window middle of the day flew.
How to kick her out - don't know!
Sitting motionless, in silence,
flowers and streams stranger.

Midnight, thank you! All the stops...
To rest what joy is!
Breeze quietly over the fields flying.
Calmness the distance the sea...
In the sky stood the star pack
tenderly-white and gold...
Midnight, how nice! All the stops...

It's not you among the reeds
bubbling, water gold
the river is my soul.
It's not a bird, slowly
the rainbow green-winged, wings
uncovered is my soul.
It's not you, sweet breathing,
was the wind rozvivati,
branch is my soul.
It's not you flow from the ladle
sunset song shower
invincible is my soul.

Be comforted pine
rain; roses -
foliage green; and the man -
woman, stars,
orange?..

Music,
when silent string,
with the beam,
when not lit the lighthouse?
Admit it, the death, and you only silence
and gloom?

... Black wind and black wind
ice moon is white.
I wander on the road - dead
in a dream world, but in reality;
and dream, dead man, about life,
hopelessly mute, call
those who have made me dumb...
Let bitten to the blood
my lips, but again red
was my blood from love.
The heart requires a revival
the body is strong and gentle hands,
smile dream lips
and, breaking the vicious circle
to redeem torrential tears
all acquainted with my pain.
Only do let heart
deepest of graves?
Tomorrow year, and maybe more
as I was buried.
The chill of sentimentalism.
Black wind. The moon is white.
On this Night of All Saints everywhere
lament of the bell.

Came like life, short,
farewell, quiet evening.
The end of all native...
And I want to be eternal!
The foliage in the garden, bloody
and my soul Ovech,
blazing copper sunset...
And I want to be eternal!
This world is beautiful!
Don't blow the candles...
Whether it is eternal, this evening,
and I shall be eternal!

The moon is filled with the smell of rosemary.
Over the sea transparent and boundless
inflorescence constellations burn silver vintage.
On the white hills, spring comes to the valley.
About the sweetness of honey on the breeze, flying past!
Grasslands would rush in a rush invincible!
Field - glazed, blue - heaven's depth.
And life becomes a fairy tale unique
and silently walks love the trail invisible.

Have crunchy brittle wind
a flowery and Sunny taste...
What an amazingly sad
the wind and the hearts Union!
Starts the fall;
the lyrical bard - Nightingale
mourned scarlet leaves
in poignant, like the sun, and branches.
Raining at times. Increasingly
all the sweeter! love the chills
and women Ghost snobase
not out of reality and dreams.
Flesh was not flesh:
she's like a frosty flower
in the flashes of desire loses
by petal petal.

Don't forget me,
unexpected joy!
What once was hard to believe - crashed
what awaited was - was forgotten,
but you are incorrect, unexpected joy,
don't forget me!
Will not forget?

My soul is the sun of the sunset
get rich yesterday.
Gold took I night,
looked. One tinsel!
The heart of the moon at dawn
threw a handful of silver.
The door I locked the next morning,
looked. One tinsel!

On the mind, let
me the exact name of things!
... so my word became
the most thing
recreated my soul again.
... so those are things you do not know,
through me to know things
to those who forgot about them,
through me about them would be remembered
and even those who like these things
through me they used learned again...
About the reason, call
me the exact name of their own,
it my things!

We sleep and our body
it's an anchor
soul abandoned
in the underwater gloom of life.