Russia. All that concerns Russia.Аnswers questions citizen of Russia. (country, place)
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Lavrov is the most experienced diplomat in the world.
btw, I'm waiting for poetry in direct.
Lavrov also sent his daughter to the despised USA to grow up in a life of Western decadence. Quite a diplomat indeed - I hear she can't even speak Russian properly.
I'm not sending you direct poetry, but I'll be happy to share some right here:
Quote:
In Europe and America there's a growing feeling of hysteria
Conditioned to respond to all the threats
In the rhetorical speeches of the Soviets
Mister Krushchev (now Pooty-Poot) said, "We will bury you"
I don't subscribe to this point of view
It'd be such an ignorant thing to do
If the Russians love their children too
How can I save my little boy from Oppenheimer's deadly toy? There is no monopoly on common sense
On either side of the political fence
We share the same biology, regardless of ideology
Believe me when I say to you
I hope the Russians love their children too
Lavrov also sent his daughter to the despised USA to grow up in a life of Western decadence. Quite a diplomat indeed - I hear she can't even speak Russian properly.
Isn't personal life a choice for everyone? The West imposes sanctions against children of Russian officials. What could be more terrifying and scary than making children pay for the debts of their fathers?
Quote:
Originally Posted by DontH8Me
I'm not sending you direct poetry, but I'll be happy to share some right here:
From the bonny bells of heather
They brewed a drink long-syne,
Was sweeter far than honey,
Was stronger far than wine.
They brewed it and they drank it,
And lay in a blessed swound
For days and days together
In their dwellings underground.
There rose a king in Scotland,
A fell man to his foes,
He smote the Picts in battle,
He hunted them like roes.
Over miles of the red mountain
He hunted as they fled,
And strewed the dwarfish bodies
Of the dying and the dead.
Summer came in the country,
Red was the heather bell;
But the manner of the brewing
Was none alive to tell.
In graves that were like children’s
On many a mountain head,
The Brewsters of the Heather
Lay numbered with the dead.
The king in the red moorland
Rode on a summer’s day;
And the bees hummed, and the curlews
Cried beside the way.
The king rode, and was angry,
Black was his brow and pale,
To rule in a land of heather
And lack the Heather Ale.
It fortuned that his vassals,
Riding free on the heath,
Came on a stone that was fallen
And vermin hid beneath.
Rudely plucked from their hiding,
Never a word they spoke:
A son and his aged father—
Last of the dwarfish folk.
The king sat high on his charger,
He looked on the little men;
And the dwarfish and swarthy couple
Looked at the king again.
Down by the shore he had them;
And there on the giddy brink—
“I will give you life, ye vermin,
For the secret of the drink.”
There stood the son and father
And they looked high and low;
The heather was red around them,
The sea rumbled below.
And up and spoke the father,
Shrill was his voice to hear:
“I have a word in private,
A word for the royal ear.
“Life is dear to the aged,
And honour a little thing;
I would gladly sell the secret,”
Quoth the Pict to the King.
His voice was small as a sparrow’s,
And shrill and wonderful clear:
“I would gladly sell my secret,
Only my son I fear.
“For life is a little matter,
And death is nought to the young;
And I dare not sell my honour
Under the eye of my son.
Take him, O king, and bind him,
And cast him far in the deep;
And it’s I will tell the secret
That I have sworn to keep.”
They took the son and bound him,
Neck and heels in a thong,
And a lad took him and swung him,
And flung him far and strong,
And the sea swallowed his body,
Like that of a child of ten;—
And there on the cliff stood the father,
Last of the dwarfish men.
“True was the word I told you:
Only my son I feared;
For I doubt the sapling courage
That goes without the beard.
But now in vain is the torture,
Fire shall never avail:
Here dies in my bosom
The secret of Heather Ale.”
Maksim, I'm a fan of Paul Verlaine myself. I've read his poems in three different languages, including the original French. Here is one of his most notable (has historic significance regarding the French Resistance in WWII) which includes the English translation in case French isn't one of your languages:
Maksim, I'm a fan of Paul Verlaine myself. I've read his poems in three different languages, including the original French. Here is one of his most notable (has historic significance regarding the French Resistance in WWII) which includes the English translation in case French isn't one of your languages:
I think the best poem about World War 2 is Konstantin Simonov:
Wait for me
Wait for me, and I'll be back, / Жди меня, и я вернусь.
Should you wait me strong. / Только очень жди,
Wait for me when sky is black / Жди, когда наводят грусть
And the sun has gone, / Желтые дожди,
Wait for me when it is cold, / Жди, когда снега метут,
And when it is hot, / Жди, когда жара,
Wait for me when others don't, / Жди, когда других не ждут,
Cause they just forgot. / Позабыв вчера.
Wait in case you don't receive / Жди, когда из дальних мест
Letters from the front, / Писем не придет,
Wait, and I will outlive, / Жди, когда уж надоест
If you really want. / Всем, кто вместе ждет.
Wait for me, and I'll be back. / Жди меня, и я вернусь,
Don't you talk to those / Не желай добра
Gluing me a dead man tag. / Всем, кто знает наизусть,
That's a wrong suppose. / Что забыть пора.
Let my relatives believe / Пусть поверят сын и мать
That I am the past, / В то, что нет меня,
Let my friends forget and give / Пусть друзья устанут ждать,
Funeral repast. / Сядут у огня,
They will drink a glass of wine/ Выпьют горькое вино
For the peace of soul... / На помин души...
You just wait and don't make time, / Жди. И с ними заодно
Do not raise the bowl. / Выпить не спеши.
Wait for me, and I'll be back, / Жди меня, и я вернусь,
Disregard the fate, / Всем смертям назло.
In the morning with my bag, / Кто не ждал меня, тот пусть
Should you only wait. / Скажет: - Повезло.
They will hardly understand, / Не понять, не ждавшим им,
How I could survive. / Как среди огня
Waiting me from foreign land, / Ожиданием своим
You have saved my life. / Ты спасла меня.
Let them say that it's too late. / Как я выжил, будем знать
What you feeling tells? / Только мы с тобой,-
I'll be back, because you wait / Просто ты умела ждать,
Like nobody else. / Как никто другой. https://lyricstranslate.com/ru/%D0%B...F-wait-me.html
I think the best poem about World War 2 is Konstantin Simonov:
Wait for me
Wait for me, and I'll be back, / Жди меня, и я вернусь.
Should you wait me strong. / Только очень жди,
Wait for me when sky is black / Жди, когда наводят грусть
And the sun has gone, / Желтые дожди,
Wait for me when it is cold, / Жди, когда снега метут,
And when it is hot, / Жди, когда жара,
Wait for me when others don't, / Жди, когда других не ждут,
Cause they just forgot. / Позабыв вчера.
Wait in case you don't receive / Жди, когда из дальних мест
Letters from the front, / Писем не придет,
Wait, and I will outlive, / Жди, когда уж надоест
If you really want. / Всем, кто вместе ждет.
Wait for me, and I'll be back. / Жди меня, и я вернусь,
Don't you talk to those / Не желай добра
Gluing me a dead man tag. / Всем, кто знает наизусть,
That's a wrong suppose. / Что забыть пора.
Let my relatives believe / Пусть поверят сын и мать
That I am the past, / В то, что нет меня,
Let my friends forget and give / Пусть друзья устанут ждать,
Funeral repast. / Сядут у огня,
They will drink a glass of wine/ Выпьют горькое вино
For the peace of soul... / На помин души...
You just wait and don't make time, / Жди. И с ними заодно
Do not raise the bowl. / Выпить не спеши.
Wait for me, and I'll be back, / Жди меня, и я вернусь,
Disregard the fate, / Всем смертям назло.
In the morning with my bag, / Кто не ждал меня, тот пусть
Should you only wait. / Скажет: - Повезло.
They will hardly understand, / Не понять, не ждавшим им,
How I could survive. / Как среди огня
Waiting me from foreign land, / Ожиданием своим
You have saved my life. / Ты спасла меня.
Let them say that it's too late. / Как я выжил, будем знать
What you feeling tells? / Только мы с тобой,-
I'll be back, because you wait / Просто ты умела ждать,
Like nobody else. / Как никто другой. https://lyricstranslate.com/ru/%D0%B...F-wait-me.html
Oh dear Maksim, Verlaine lived before the turn of the 20th century, in the late 1800s. The poem I shared wasn't written for WWII, it was broadcast by the BBC to signal to the French Resistance.
But this does help me have a better understanding of the depth of your own understanding of what is written in English. And I'm not saying that to be mean or take swipe, I am sincerely taking this knowledge into account.
Oh dear Maksim, Verlaine lived before the turn of the 20th century, in the late 1800s. The poem I shared wasn't written for WWII, it was broadcast by the BBC to signal to the French Resistance.
But this does help me have a better understanding of the depth of your own understanding of what is written in English. And I'm not saying that to be mean or take swipe, I am sincerely taking this knowledge into account.
It's not exactly a secret . But ok, ok. I repeat that my English is bad. It's not a secret either.
It's not exactly a secret . But ok, ok. I repeat that my English is bad. It's not a secret either.
It's ok, anyone who can recognize the art in words, in any language, can't be half-bad as far as I'm concerned.
I think if we ever met in person, we would probably be friends. Even if we don't agree politically, at least you appreciate the beauty in poetry. And the poem you shared was indeed well written.
It's an authoritarian society indeed, just based on different ideas than the Soviet state of course.
Just one with about 10 different parties represented in Parliament, 2nd largest of which is pro-Russian.
I can't make any sense of your commentary from the other day. I can't figure out if you think Zel is a Nazi, or whether all you want is to get rid of Azov Brigade.
The more you write here, the less I understand. Maybe a course in communications would be helpful for you.
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. But ok, ok. I repeat that my English is bad. It's not a secret either.
