The Sphinx (Ivan Turgenev Poems)
Yellowish-grey sand, soft at the top, hard, grating below… sand withoutend, where-ever one looks.And above this sandy desert, above this ...
Yellowish-grey sand, soft at the top, hard, grating below… sand withoutend, where-ever one looks.And above this sandy desert, above this ...
What shall I think when I come to die, if only I am in a condition to thinkanything then?Shall I ...
A sumptuous, brilliantly lighted hall; a number of ladies and gentlemen.All the faces are animated, the talk is lively…. A ...
Stay! as I see thee now, abide for ever in my memory!From thy lips the last inspired note has broken. ...
What an insignificant trifle may sometimes transform the whole man!Full of melancholy thought, I walked one day along the highroad.My ...
Two friends were sitting at a table drinking tea.A sudden hubbub arose in the street. They heard pitiable groans, furiousabuse, ...
Us two in the room; my dog and me…. Outside a fearful storm is howling.The dog sits in front of ...
I was walking along the street… I was stopped by a decrepit old beggar.Bloodshot, tearful eyes, blue lips, coarse rags, ...
One day the Supreme Being took it into his head to give a great banquet inhis palace of azure.All the ...
A young man goes skipping and bounding along a street in the capital. Hismovements are gay and alert; there is ...
Whatever a man pray for, he prays for a miracle. Every prayer reducesto this: 'Great God, grant that twice two ...
Days of darkness, of dreariness, have come…. Thy own infirmities, thesufferings of those dear to thee, the chill and gloom ...
Have you seen an old grey stone on the seashore, when at high tide, on asunny day of spring, the ...
'If you want to annoy an opponent thoroughly, and even to harm him,' said acrafty old knave to me, 'you ...
I used to know a monk, a hermit, a saint. He lived only for the sweetnessof prayer; and steeping himself ...
How empty, dull, and useless is almost every day when it is spent! How fewthe traces it leaves behind it! ...
A tall, bony old woman, with iron face and dull, fixed look, moves withlong strides, and, with an arm dry ...
When I hear the praises of the rich man Rothschild, who out of his immenserevenues devotes whole thousands to the ...
Calmly and gracefully thou movest along the path of life, tearless andsmileless, and scarce a heedless glance of indifferent attention ...
In days of doubt, in days of dreary musings on my country's fate, thoualone art my stay and support, mighty, ...
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