med_cat: (Hourglass)
Илья Сельвинский - Белый песец

Мы начинаем с тобой стареть,
Спутница дорогая моя...
В зеркало вглядываешься острей,
Боль от самой себя затая:

"A White Fox", by Ilya Selvinsky

My dear companion,
Both you and I are starting to grow old...
You look more sharply at the mirror,
Concealing your pain even from yourself:

Ты еще ходишь-плывешь по земле
В облаке женственного тепла.
Но уж в улыбке, что света милей,
Лишняя черточка залегла.

You still walk-float on the ground
In a cloud of feminine warmth.
But already, in your smile which is dearer than the world to me,
There is an extra wrinkle.

Но ведь и эти морщинки твои
Очень тебе, дорогая, к лицу.
Нет, не расплющить нашей любви
Даже и времени колесу!

But even those wrinkles of yours
Suit you, dear, very well.
No, our love cannot be crushed,
Not even by the wheel of time!Read more... )
med_cat: (cat in dress)
This one is a song, from the CD Under The Gripping Beast by Echo's Children:

Seasons of Love
Lyrics ©1996 by Catherine Faber
ttto: Tallis' Canon (Psalm Setting #8, Musica Brittanica)


I love you well as skylarks sing
In soaring ecstasies of spring
And twilight stars that shyly rise
Yet seem no brighter than your eyes.

You love me well as springing wheat
Grows golden bright in summer heat
And as the harvest apple glows
The autumn warmth between us grows.

And when my beauty all too brief
Is withered like the autumn leaf
And when your hair is frosted silver
Winter sees us lovers still.

(sent by [livejournal.com profile] duathir--many thanks :)
med_cat: (cat in dress)
Recipe for Happiness in Khabarovsk or Anyplace

One grand boulevard with trees
with one grand café in sun
with strong black coffee in very small cups

One not necessarily very beautiful
man or woman who loves you

One fine day

By Lawrence Ferlinghetti

(Found at this site.)

(found thanks to [livejournal.com profile] duathir)
med_cat: (Hourglass)
December's Snow

The bloom is on the May once more,
The chestnut buds have burst anew;
But, darling, all our springs are o'er,
'Tis winter still for me and you.
We plucked Life's blossoms long ago
What's left is but December's snow.

But winter has its joys as fair,
The gentler joys, aloof, apart;
The snow may lie upon our hair
But never, darling, in our heart.
Sweet were the springs of long ago
But sweeter still December's snow.

Yes, long ago, and yet to me
It seems a thing of yesterday;
The shade beneath the willow tree,
The word you looked but feared to say.
Ah! when I learned to love you so
What recked we of December's snow?

But swift the ruthless seasons sped
And swifter still they speed away.
What though they bow the dainty head
And fleck the raven hair with gray?
The boy and girl of long ago
Are laughing through the veil of snow.

By Arthur Conan Doyle

Originally posted by [livejournal.com profile] duathir at Arthur Conan Doyle, 'December's Snow'--many thanks!

med_cat: (cat in dress)

ДОМАШНЕЕ

Этот Коля Сыроежкин,
Это дьявол, а не мальчик!
Все, что видит, все, что слышит,
Он на ус себе мотает.
А потом начнет однажды
Все разматывать обратно,
Да расспрашивать, да мучить
Многословно, многократно.
Вот, пристал намедни к маме,-
Так что маме стало жарко:
Объясни ему, хоть тресни,
Чем прославился Петрарка?!

Household Matters

This Kolya Syroezhkin,
He's a little devil, not a boy!
All he sees and all he hears,
He takes note of,
And at one point, he starts
Unraveling all his notes,
And to question, and to badger
Everyone, many times, with many words.
There, yesternight he started in on his mother,
So much that she grew hot in the face:
Explain to him, no matter what,
What was Petrarch famous for?!

Read more... )

med_cat: (cat in dress)
The Shampoo

The still explosions on the rocks,
the lichens, grow
by spreading, gray, concentric shocks.
They have arranged
to meet the rings around the moon, although
within our memories they have not changed.

And since the heavens will attend
as long on us,
you've been, dear friend,
precipitate and pragmatical;
and look what happens. For Time is
nothing if not amenable.

The shooting stars in your black hair
in bright formation
are flocking where,
so straight, so soon?
--Come, let me wash it in this big tin basin,
battered and shiny like the moon.

Elizabeth Bishop
med_cat: (Hourglass)


...She is 25, nearly 26, always...

Difficult to believe it's been 7 years.
med_cat: (cat in dress)
“What We Might Be, What We Are”
X. J. Kennedy

If you were a scoop of vanilla
And I were the cone where you sat,
If you were a slowly pitched baseball
And I were the swing of a bat,

If you were a shiny new fishhook
And I were a bucket of worms,
If we were a pin and a pincushion,
We might be on intimate terms.

If you were a plate of spaghetti
And I were your piping-hot sauce,
We’d not even need to write letters
To put our affection across,

But you’re just a piece of red ribbon
In the beard of a Balinese goat
And I’m a New Jersey mosquito.
I guess we’ll stay slightly remote.

Originally posted by [livejournal.com profile] exceptindreams at What We Might Be, What We Are | X. J. Kennedy
med_cat: (cat in dress)
Love
by Charles Stuart Calverley


Canst thou love me, lady?
I've not learn'd to woo:
Thou art on the shady
Side of sixty too.
Still I love thee dearly!
Thou hast lands and pelf:
But I love thee merely
Merely for thyself.

Wilt thou love me, fairest?
Though thou art not fair;
And I think thou wearest
Someone-else's hair.
Thou could'st love, though, dearly:
And, as I am told,
Thou art very nearly
Worth thy weight, in gold.
Dost thou love me, sweet love? / Tell me that thou dost!... )
med_cat: (cat in dress)
"I can't say when you'll get love or how you'll find it or even promise you that you will. I can only say you are worthy of it & that it's never too much to ask for it and that it's not crazy to fear you'll never have it again, even though your fears are probably wrong.

Love is our essential nutrient. Without it, life has little meaning. It's the best thing we have to give and the most valuable thing we receive.

Love is worthy of all the hullabaloo."

(Cheryl Strayed)
med_cat: (cat in dress)
The Unloved to His Beloved

Could I pluck down Aldebaran
And haze the Pleiads in your hair
I could not add more burning to your beauty
Or lend a starrier coldness to your air.

If I were cleaving terrible waters
With death ahead on the visible sands
I could not turn and stretch my hands more wildly,
More vainly turn and stretch to you my hands.

By William Alexander Percy, 1885 - 1942

Originally posted by [livejournal.com profile] duathir at William Alexander Percy, 'The Unloved to His Beloved'

med_cat: (cat in dress)
Why Our Partners Drive Us Mad: Philosopher Alain de Botton to the Central Foible of the Human Heart and How to Heal It, from Brain Pickings

The Erasure of Islam from Poetry of Rumi, by Rozina Ali, in The New Yorker

(makes sense...I did wonder why Rumi, unlike his sort-of-contemporary, also Muslim poet Mirza-Shafi, doesn't mention Islam...)

Gestures to Avoid in Cross-Cultural Business: In Other Words, ‘Keep Your Fingers to Yourself!’

11 WTF Items That Kids Ordered Online Without Telling Their Parents--I was especially amused by the mom's clever handling of #9
med_cat: (cat in dress)
Originally posted by [livejournal.com profile] levkonoe at И.Гармашова



_____________________________________________
Автор картины - в заголовке, при копировании просьба указывать автора!



This entry was originally posted at Dreamwidth. Please comment ТАМ, где это можно прочитать.
med_cat: (cat in dress)

same in next format: )

~ The Nervous Housewife, by Abraham Myerson, M.D., 1920

(Source: questionableadvice Tumblr)
med_cat: (cat in dress)

Асадов Эдуард

Слово о любви

Любить — это прежде всего отдавать.
Любить — значит чувства свои, как реку,
С весенней щедростью расплескать
На радость близкому человеку.

Любить — это только глаза открыть
И сразу подумать еще с зарею:
Ну чем бы порадовать, одарить
Того, кого любишь ты всей душою?!

Любить — значит страстно вести бои
За верность и словом, и каждым взглядом,
Чтоб были сердца до конца свои
И в горе и в радости вечно рядом.

Read more... )

med_cat: (cat in dress)
Рождественский Роберт
Все начинается с любви...

Твердят:
"В начале
было
слово".
А я провозглашаю снова:
все начинается
с любви!

Read more... )
med_cat: (woman reading)
Saucy "Escort Cards" were a way to flirt in the 19th-century US, from National Geographic

Printed souvenirs from frost fairs held on the frozen Thames, from Slate's The Vault

(must have been quite a job, hauling all that heavy printing equipment on and then off the ice...)

Gift

Dec. 16th, 2015 06:23 am
med_cat: (Spring tulips)
Gift
by
Rabindranath Tagore



O my love, what gift of mine
Shall I give you this dawn?
A morning song?
But morning does not last long—
The heat of the sun
Wilts like a flower
And songs that tire
Are done.

Read more... )
med_cat: (cat and books)
Асадов Эдуард
Обидная любовь

Пробило десять. В доме тишина.
Она сидит и напряженно ждет.
Ей не до книг сейчас и не до сна,
Вдруг позвонит любимый, вдруг придет?!

Пусть вечер люстру звездную включил,
Не так уж поздно, день еще не прожит.
Не может быть, чтоб он не позвонил!
Чтобы не вспомнил - быть того не может!

Read more... )

[livejournal.com profile] elenbarathi--I remember you'd expressed interest in reading more of Edouard Asadov's poetry, here's one I thought you might like. The rhyme scheme in the original is abab.

An Offensive Love
by Edouard Asadov

It has struck ten. The house is quiet.
She is sitting and waiting tensely.
She can't read or sleep,
What if her beloved calls, what if he comes by?!
Even though the evening has turned on its chandelier of stars... )

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