Masterpieces of literary creativity - page 7
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and take her at the end of the week, literally - catch her on her way out of work.
for example). Warm and tired... No, of course she'll be stubborn,
and she'll be naughty and want to run away - don't listen to her! It hurts. We use
brute male force, gently under the elbow, put her in the car, poke her in the nose
...a bouquet of flowers in the nose, chocolate in the mouth... A kiss on the cheek. And a seatbelt
...with a seatbelt so she doesn't jump out of the car. For 10 minutes, she chews
and she realizes what's going on. During that time, she calms down and even
stop snorting... Maybe. And maybe she'll even start laughing and...
and flirtatious... Don't relax! Don't give in to a woman's wiles and charms. И
And under no circumstances do we take her home... To her... Take her to our place... There's
exactly 10 minutes for her to accept the inevitable... Well, we could
tell her about the teddy bear collection I've been putting together
as a gift for her. Or you could tell her that you recently found a Kandinsky print
that she absolutely must see... At home... No, not a quickie on the...
on the table... No, not mulled wine with Vivaldi... Yes, a hot bath, but...
no chanson and no pop. We add a few drops of aromatic oils to the water,
scent to taste... How to lure her in is not the problem... You could suggest
to see the hamster that lives under the bathtub.
brute male force again, but there's a risk she'll come up and wet cat
and take a taxi home... Forever... It takes imagination, it's all in
in her own hands! Especially as she already understands everything. All our
all our male endeavors and efforts... Now, pay attention! The most important thing is to leave
for 15-20 minutes alone... Let her lie there, let her soak up the oil, let her
forget about being strong, proud, independent... Let
just rest... Get a glass of juice, if you're feeling the urge
to sneak a peek... And check to see if she's going to use a tube of toothpaste
or not... No? Good, she's almost domesticated, so we can move on to the next...
the next step... We take a regular Johnson's baby oil, add
a little fragrance, bring the relaxed creature out into the light of day
and start rubbing her vigorously with the mixture... I bet...
she's going to freak out. And not only will it be taken aback, but it'll start to look at you
...and start looking at you... Then she'll give up the shreds of rationality and put herself...
and put herself in your hands... Attention! Do not relax! No distractions!
Don't linger on the bulges! Get your thoughts and desires into the depths! В
At this moment, the masseur. Point. Quickly wrap her in a terrycloth sheet,
before she notices how much she doesn't want to be a masseur... Pick up
and into the bedroom... ...and into the bedroom... Well, we'll see...
We'll see. Either you want to have sex a couple times, or you want to be in a relationship
more... In the first case, you want to have sex right away.
without putting it off. In the second... Oh... in the second... - lay her curled up against
on your shoulder, pat her on the head, kiss her on the cheek and let her
sleep... "My little one"... It doesn't matter how old she is, it doesn't matter
her height/weight. None of that matters at all! Now she's...
little girl, she's protected, she's peaceful, she's happy that she doesn't
she doesn't have to do anything, she doesn't have to rush anywhere or be afraid of anyone... Not
to be an excellent worker, an exemplary mother, a good friend...
You don't even have to be a mistress now... You don't need anything... At all! I mean..,
I mean, absolutely. You can just sleep... Just fly in her sleep...
And it doesn't matter if she sleeps for an hour or all night... Turn off
Phones off, let her be a baby... When she wakes up, she'll
she'll wake up happy. And that's when you decide whether you want sex,
friendship, or just a hot sandwich... And when she does leave and,
maybe she'll drive her own nails again, be proud and
and independent, just knowing that it's just the role of a strong and independent
woman... And in reality she's a little girl who sniffs funny
sniffling in her sleep and smiling at the rainbow... And her eyes are like the sky. They're the same...
bright and happy...
Here is an example of a true masterpiece!!! One of the gems of Russian poetry.
BERESA
A white birch
# Under my window
Covered with snow,
♪ Silver as silver ♪
...............
<1913>
Sergei Yesenin.
A tear came to my eyes.
My mother used to read these poems to me as a child.
And then there's "Winter Sings Away....".
Learned it by heart....
Bravo!!!
It brings tears to my eyes.
My mother used to read these poems to me as a child.
And "Winter Sings Away....".
Learned by heart....
Bravo!!!
Mityaev is my idol. His lyrics are rich and at times exemplary of high poetry, and his melodies are marvellous.
You could
Dm E AmYou could be the first to meet me,
Dm E Am
And stay a nervous abandoned wife.
Dm G7 C Am
Or unrequited, silent, undead,
Dm E(Hm7-5) Am
As if with a knife wound unnoticed.
¶¶ You could be the next one to be found ¶¶
¶¶ And you could be the next to be found ¶¶ And you could be the next one to know ¶¶
And you might not have been lonely,
And you might have known a lot, just not love.
And give your children a sad, fatherless fate.
Waiting for something to break inside.
So there's no point in shedding tears without cause.
Until what year is our ticket,
No one knows. Rejoice, pray,
That life might have been more miserable
One can feel the experience of a man who has had many wives.
Mityaev's songs are spiritual drugs for me. They make me laugh and fly away, and sometimes make me cry. All his songs are so clear and close to me. But unfortunately there are people who are indifferent to him.
I don't understand how you can be indifferent to a song like this?
Em Am H7 Em
,A princess lives in a communal flat
Am H7 Em
Over the noisy Garden Ring.
Am D7 F+7 Em
Blackbirds come down at night
Am H
To the road frozen with lead.
Am H7 Em
Princes, and princesses, and servants,
Am H7 E7
With the soul of settled birds,
Am D7 F+7 Em
They fly down slowly in the middle of the week
Am H Em
To the princess, and fall down.
Am H7 Em
It's not long till the New Year
C D G
Am H7 Em Am H7 Em
Until the New Year...
Em Am H7 Em
Everyone prays into that window,
Am H7 Em
In which the late-night candle
Am D7 F+7 Em
The candle, reflecting by the cat,
Am H
The black one, in eyes without a bottom.
Am H7 Em
Mistress by the cat
Am H7 E7
And bring back to life, and save.
Am D7 F+7 Em
And she can do many more,
Am H Em
But as it turns out, not all.
Until the New Year
There's not much left.
Till the New Year...
Hm C#7 F#m
Hm C#7 F#7
And the thread of sadness is thin,
Hm E7 G+7 F#m
Woven slowly, slowly into a scarf
Hm C#
In silent anticipation of the call.
Hm C#7 F#m
The call that echoes
Hm C#7 F#7
Hangs three rainbow arcs.
Hm E7 G+7 F#m
And he hasn't left Moscow,
Hm C#7 C#m
He's just married to someone else.
Hm C#7 F#m
A song with surprisingly subtle lyricism, very touching and kind. The metaphor of the transmigration of souls is very well found: the birds are the servants. The first two verses are real masterpieces.It's not long till New Year's Eve
D E7 A
Hm C#7 F#m Hm C#7 F#m
Till the New Year...
But to make the song a real masterpiece as a whole, I would work on it a bit more if I were Mityaev. The third verse is spoiled a bit by the word 'schedule', which is clearly inappropriate for such an example of high poetry. The first thing that came to my mind was:
The moon is our everlasting watchman,
And a thread of sadness is thin,
Weaves slowly into a tracery scarf
In silent anticipation of a call.
I have nothing to do with poetry, I'm just a big fan of Oleg's songs and a devoted admirer of his talent, so I think Oleg, given his experience and talent, could have come up with something better than that. And, of course, the chorus has to be full-length, as in most of his songs, not so short. And, perhaps, it would be better not to be attached to a local date, even if it's New Year. After all, this song is obviously forever! But of course it's the author's right and it's up to him to decide.
These thoughts occurred to me after hearing this song, and I confess that I got a great pleasure that can only be compared with an orgasm. The light sadness that hovers over his songs makes me feel a storm of emotions in general. These are just the last songs I've listened to. He has a lot of real masterpieces that you can listen to and listen to for a long time.
EXCERPTS FROM PUPILS' ESSAYS:
1. the tractor was racing across the field, smelling slightly...
In the summer, the boys and I went on an overnight camping trip and took only
potatoes, a tent and Maria Ivanovna.
3. Lermontov died in the Caucasus, but that's not why he loved it!
4. Plyushkin piled a whole heap in his corner and piled it up every day.
5. Lensky went out to the duel in pantaloons. They separated and a shot rang out.
6. Dantes wasn't worth Pushkin's eider-egg.
7. Two horses rode into the courtyard. They were the sons of Taras Bulba.
8. Onegin liked Byron, so he hung him above his bed.
9. Gerasim put a saucer on the floor and started poking his muzzle into it.
10. Onegin felt heavy inside, so he came to Tatiana to relieve himself.
11. Lermontov was born to his grandmother in the village when his parents lived in St. Petersburg.
12. Chatsky came out through the back door and propped up the door with a stick.
13. Gerasim poured Mouma some soup.
14. Poor Liza tore flowers and fed her mother with it.
15. Khlestakov got into the brigade and shouted: "Drive, my dove, to the airport!"
16. Chatsky's father died when he was a child.
17. Pierre was a socialite and therefore urinated perfume.
18. In his old age he was bedridden with cancer.
19. Suddenly Herman heard the creaking of springs. It was the old duchess.
20. The cabanitress had fumbled with Katerina's soft spot and was pressing on it every day.
21. The Rostovs had three daughters, Natasha, Sonya and Nicholas.
22. Taras sat down on the horse. The horse bent and then laughed.
23. Tatiana's soul is full of love and can't wait to shower it on someone.
24. A regiment of Frenchmen and Kutuzov marched on.
25. Onegin was a rich man: in the mornings he sat in the lavatory and then went to the circus.
26. Peter the First jumped off the pedestal and ran after Eugene, clattering his hooves loudly.
27. Gogol's nose is filled with the deepest content.
28. The deaf-mute Gerasim did not like gossip and spoke only the truth.
29. Turgenev is not satisfied with either fathers or children.
30. Girls like Olga had long been bored with Onegin, and Pushkin too.
31. I met Mikhail Lermontov in kindergarten.
32. Gerasim ate for four and worked alone.
33.
Pechorin kidnapped Bela in a fit of passion and wanted through her love
to get closer to the people. But he did not succeed. Nor did he succeed with
Maxim Maximych.
34. Chichikov has many positive features: he is always shaved and smelling.
35. Pugachev helped Grinev not only in his work, but also in his love for Masha.
36. Silky, blonde curls were poking out from under her lace apron.
37. The sons came to see Taras and began to get to know him.
38. Famusov condemns his daughter for the fact that Sophia has been with a man all morning and already.
39. Thus Pechorin has taken possession of Bella and Kazbich has taken possession of Karakez.
40. Natasha was a true Russian character, very fond of nature and often went to the yard.
41. Gerasim left Tatiana and got involved with Mumu.
42. Grushnitsky carefully aimed at his forehead, the bullet scraped his knee.
43. Nineteenth-century poets were easy men: they were often killed in duels.
44. It was here that he first learned spoken Russian from his nanny, Arina Rodionovna.
45. Pierre Bezukhov's first successes in love were bad - he married right away.
46. As a result, Tikhon has grown into not a man, but a real sheep.
47. Kirsanov was sitting in the bushes, but he saw everything he shouldn't.
48.
At first Tatiana was fervently in love with Onegin, and he couldn't see her in his eyes. But
when she went cold, Eugene decided to start all over again. It was too late.
49. The chairman took the milkmaids to heart so much that the milk yield immediately increased.
50. When I read Gorky's novel Mother, I wanted to become a mother myself.
51. The moans of the wounded and the dead rang out in the field.
52. There was an extraordinary aroma in the forest, and I too stopped to stand.
53. Flying on crutches is not easy, but he has learned.
54. The Decembrists had accumulated great potency and poured it out on the Senate Square.
55.
Raskolnikov woke up and sweetly reached for his axe. On the floor lay
On the floor lay the corpse, scarcely breathing; beside it sat the corpse's wife, and the corpse's brother lay in another room, unconscious.
room, unconscious.
56. On the bank of the river a milkmaid was milking a cow and the water reflected everything backwards.
57. Anna Karenina couldn't find any real men and so she lay down under a train.
58. A Negro, ruddy from frost, entered the upper room.
59. The frogs galloped in pairs towards the swamp, where they ended in suicide.
60. The poem is written in rhyme, which is not uncommon for a poet.
61. From Nekrasov's work the peasants learned how bad their lives were...
62. Suvorov was a real man and slept with ordinary soldiers.
63. Pushkin was sensitive in many places.
64. Piglets have a curly tail at the back, by which they are distinguished from other pets.
65. The great Russian painter Levitan was born into a poor Jewish family.
66. The boy in the boat was rowing fast with his reeds.
67. Of all the feminine charms Maria Bolkonskaya had only eyes.
68. Anna had hit it off with Vronsky in a very new, unacceptable way for the country.
69. The Grey Neck sadly lowered her bottom into the icy water...
70. The bears saw that the bear cub's bed was wrinkled and they knew: Masha was here.
71. It was quiet all around, as if everyone had died out... What a beauty!
72. The sundial was ticking loudly in the room.
Michael Marshall Smith - The Book of Irrational Numbers.
http://www.kuchaknig.ru/show_book.php?book=36868
>
http://www.litera.ru/stixiya/authors/krylov/all.html
A LETTER ON THE BENEFITS OF WISHFUL THINKING
I am bored with my desires,
I have made them a hindrance to my good,
I have clenched my heart and let my mind loose,
To be free from them for ever.
All is vanity, as Solomon wrote;
Though now we are more learned than the ancients,
but they did not talk all nonsense either.
I thought so, and I hardly thought he was right.
All is vanity, all things are equal.
The desire only puts a price on them.
Or puts them among the bad things,
Though some things are no more glorious than others.
What's the wretchedness of flint? What's the dearness of diamond?
If they tell me it is shining to the eye.
"Ice, too, is no less glittering to the eye.
So they will tell me, as things are rare,
they'll be as cheap as they're cheap.
Here again the Roman mud is rare;
It comes to us on their medals;
But no one trades in it,
And Roman filth is like our filth, nasty.
Their mud is rare, but Roman antics
Not by their filth is their price so great;
So, then, there is another appraiser; -
Desire? Yes, it is none other,
And, believe me, the appraiser is preternatural.
We are accustomed to believe him blindly,
We're accustomed to measure everything by its measure;
It draws the light in its own way;
It is the poison of the heart.
I'm caught in this thought like a pin,
I gave all my desires a rest.
I thought my blood was cold in me:
Farewell to rank and glory and love.
I was captivated by my lofty thoughts,
I set all things in my line.
I thought, all happiness in the distance
captivate us; nearer all soon bore us;
It's all the same (is it not clear that it teaches?)
What to be in a crown, what to be in a mere cap;
That to be the maker of the beautiful Aeneid,
That the gentle Muses honour,
That princes, kings, and kingdoms should be outlived;
What to be the scribe of a prelate heroine,
Or, by reducing high thoughts to expense,
Or, by reducing the high thoughts, to write lightly about his own doings;
That in the fields the trophies of glory are set,
With Rumyantsev, with Kamensky, to rattle there,
To take away envy's tongue,
and make hatred praise itself;
That, curbing the military, ardent spirit,
To beat the flies at home, in spite of men's mercy.
Let the light turn as it will;
Let one of the glory of the age flap,
The other, hoarding sacks of chervonets,
and the other, with his money-bags, and his orders, and his nobility, without staring,
One wants to be eaten twice in one bite
And hides paradise behind strong locks:
It's all nonsense, dreams, nonsense!
Wouldn't it be better for us not to multiply our own needs?
To live in peace and not to be disturbed by the light?
The less needy, the less evil will come;
The fewer the needs, the greater the happiness;
The lesser the need, the greater the happiness:
That's the way to diminish evil in our will.
That's right! I have found the key to paradise,
I've found the key of paradise, and suddenly I've stopped wishing.
I am opposed to feeling, but to reason I obey,
I have become cold and indifferent to all things;
No more needs, no more passions;
Hope, my old, faithful friend,
In my bosom I see no cause,
and I have not seen a thing in my bosom to give comfort to others;
And my blood was transformed and my blood was transformed.
and my blood turned to ice.
I am bored and bored out of my mind;
Nothing in me gave birth to desire.
Without sorrow, without boredom, I lost;
Without joy I have gained again;
I have met with loss and success equally;
I've had no sorrow or laughter;
From the eyes of things gone are their sullennesses,
But with them their beauties are gone.
And, desiring to remove the shadows from the picture,
I left the soulless look of a canvas.
Or, more plainly, I took as the law,
as Zeno used to say in the old days,
I have not entered the chambers of happiness,
I have not tasted paradise, but I have died alive.
And from three dawns I have not felt tired.
"No, no," they shout, "he has found paradise for sure.
And, more wondrously, he did not ascend to heaven."
But I say, that's an idle thought.
If this is heaven, so boldly I stand,
That we are in hell, and the stones are all in heaven.
No, no, that's not the bliss we need;
With desire we are born into the world.
For what are our minds and feelings given?
To be able to wish, that's the perfection of happiness!
Is hearing to be deaf?
Is the tongue to be dumb forever?
Are our eyes not made to see?
Is the heart not given to love?
Know how to covet and get diligently:
With toil it is always more pleasant to gain;
Know thou toil not in vain -
Foolishly to wish only hopelessly.
We call obstruction evil in vain;
The price of things for us is only in it:
By hindrance our desire grows in us;
The obstacle makes the thing shine for us.
There's no happiness for us if there's no hindrance to it;
There's no boredom, there's no pleasure.
Not he who possesses happiness is happy:
Happy is he who expects it.
Look, I've found out this paradise;
I have become a stone, and for three days I have been unwilling;
But a century of such peace
I will not compare to a single moment,
When, through the misfortunes of dark clouds,
when, through the misfortunes of the dark clouds, a ray of hope shone in my eyes,
When, in love with beautiful Annuta,
I lived between fear and hope.
Oh, if I could, I'd pay for a century
I'd pay for this hope, not for a year, not for an hour, but for a minute!
Away, schoolboys, glorified rest,
Nature's enemy and death's brother,
Out of my heart and wait for me in my grave!
Awake again, you desires, in me!
Come, in the presence of them, hope is sweet!
So in you alone is all importance and power:
You alone can give bliss.
Let the sages write the systems of happiness:
All their thoughts breathe but pride.
Why should they give their hearts an empty law,
when it is dark and useless to them?
Their systems cannot be learned in three centuries;
They lead only to fruitless labours.
And I, friends, will tell you in short:
To wish and to wait is man's happiness.
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GOOD LUCK TO ALL! TO US...