My idea for my sonnet poem

D - electricity
With  her the world can shine
In her light I write this lines
And with her power I get mine



26



When night comes on the desert sky
To soft the flame of sun in dew,
And spills life on the boring dry
And wan, like me, I think it's You...
When morning feeds the cooled Earth
With golden rays of warmth and shine
And to new buds gives fragrant birth,
As to bleak me, I feel Your line.
When midday sun sends off its beam
In warm and gracious manner, I
Think that You are this lovely gleam
Of splashing water by the sky...
  And then I see that in this world
  I love You most beyond the Lord.




It's half past one: and again
You aimlessly fall in the feed.
Your mind is more dark than night's reign,
No frailty it can forbid.
'Tis day was so complex - as you.
Reality vexes. 'Tis weather.
'Tis autumn breathes with its cold blue
And makes you breathe heavy together.

And that hoped salve is her eyes,
Her breath, is her fondness, is she,
She is your soul's fine paradise;
Without her unrest looms, wintry...




Beneath the night is condor born,
Which dresses off the hunan's heart.
At night all shyness is forsworn,
And lost thoughts do retrieve their part.

In reign of night, day's rules work not :
Soul's secrets shake of heavy locks,
And speech and silence heat so hot,
And words of kindness boredom knocks.







Beneath the stars is condor born,
Which dresses off the hunan's heart.
At night all shyness is forsworn,
And lost thoughts do retrieve their part.

In reign of night, day's laws work not :
Soul's secrets shake of heavy locks,
And speech and silence heat so hot,
And words of kindness boredom knocks.

Beneath the stars men get so feeling,
Too tender, they get vulnerable,
And in night's shade their talks are thrilling,
To rill with great ease they are able.

But with the day, the stir comes too -
All matters - home, work, study, friends,
But in the night's reviving dew,
A man his soul to himself lends.



Beneath the stars is candor born,
In dark undressing human's heart.
At night all shyness is forsworn,
And lost thoughts do retrieve their part.

In reign of night, day's laws work not :
Soul's secrets shake off heavy locks,
And speech and silence make nights hot,
A word of kindness day's course knocks.

Beneath the stars men get so feeling,
So vulnerable, soft too much,
And in night's shade their talks are thrilling,
They rill with ease and nak'd hearts touch.

But with the day, the stir comes too
And whirls in household, work and friends,
Till in the night's reviving dew
A man his soul to himself lends.




Would I melt for a while,
Myself find.
Whould I shake off the pile,
Free my mind.
Should I fall in love then,
Forget all?
Or just hide from all men,
Save my soul?
O, enough! Read fortune!
Fall in sleep!
And new days I will reap,
And new moon.




A stilted you with live, warm thou
She gently changed in a slip,
And all the dreams and hopes did sow
Which lover's souls with mirth do reap.
By love's might whistfully did bow,
I gaz'd her, weak this gaze to bar,
And said : " How likeable you are!"
And thought : "How much I love thou"



The lifeless you with heartful thou
She gently changed in a slip,
And all the dreams and hopes did sow
Which lover's souls with mirth do reap.
By love's might whistfully I bow,
I gaze her, weak this gaze to bar,
And say : " How likeable you are!"
And think in depth : "How much I love thou".









O dear to whom it may concern!
Could my translations somehow earn
Your kind consideration, please?
Yeah, pardon this queer form of speech :
Though lines I penned a plenty reach
It's first time I'm submitting these.
I write (and get inspired) ashore
The Mare Nostrum I adore,
And here I somehow did translate
Four poems by two Russian wits :
Three by Dali Merzho, one great
By Pushkin (Yes, Dali permits
My scanty wit to tell her verse
In English... All I did rehearse.
Wait! also I esteem your time
And care for poet's troubled minds:
Revising our endless rhyme
Your toil the truth and beauty finds,
And with new life spent souls can fill.
With love, Yours Frizen Mikhail.





Jing Jing has passed.
My feelings not.
My feelings last,
My heart will dote.

Jing Jing's so far!
My feelings whet,
What I can't bar -
They burned my head.

Jing Jing has changed!
But never I.
Those left estranged
But pray, or cry.

Will I change? NO.
Because I can't
Because of woe
My love's might bend.

...And also tears
Are sometimes sweet -
Remember, years
Ago, we meet :

We sit so close,
I speak to you,
My heart all glows...
Now leaves hot dew,

O what was that?
A dream?.. Though lot
Of dreams I had
With you - it's not.

The words you breathed
Got iron-shod,
And gently sheathed,
Fell deep in thought.

The words you wrote
Are now engraved;
Not like a note,
But like gold saved.

That meet more cost
Than earthly gold,
A lot words lost -
It's still not called.

O, dreams are less
Than what that was -
They evanesce
Without a loss.

I saved the soap
From that hotel,
Joy, strength, and hope
Sheds from it's smell.

And when the water
From Agros,
Or juicy daughter
Of it's rose

Do salve my throat
And whole enliven,
I feel like God
Shows some of Heaven,

Because they hold,
Your touch, your smell,
In them your mold
And soul do dwell,

Since on that land
We met... we talked!
No dream can lend
That dream I walked...

Since your feet met
The green Agros,
And it's rills fed,
Which prime each rose.

This doting heart
On you eyes sticks,
And bursts in art
Seeing that small pics.

How long a line,
Flies far to you!
How wet a whine
Spoils it with dew!

Though I'm a boy -
Forbidden is
Her to annoy
Who did not miss

The love I spend.

So lie unsent.












Jing Jing has passed.
My feelings not.
My feelings last,
My heart will dote.

Jing Jing's so far!
My feelings whet,
What I can't bar -
They burned my head.

Jing Jing has changed!
But never I.
Those left estranged
But pray, or cry.

Will I change? NO.
Because I can't
Because of woe
My love's might bend.

...And also tears
Are sometimes sweet -
Remember, years
Ago, we meet :

We sit so close,
I speak to you,
My heart all glows...
Now leaves hot dew,

O what was that?
A dream?.. Though lot
Of dreams I had
With you - it's not.

The words you breathed
Got iron-shod,
And gently sheathed,
Fell deep in thought.

The words you wrote
Are now engraved;
Not like a note,
But like gold saved.

That meet more cost
Than earthly gold,
A lot words lost -
It's still not called.

O, dreams are less
Than what that was -
They evanesce
Without a loss.

I saved the soap
From that hotel,
Joy, strength, and hope
Sheds from it's smell.

And when the water
From Agros,
Or juicy daughter
Of it's rose

Do salve my throat
And whole enliven,
I feel like God
Shows some of Heaven,

Because they hold,
Your touch, your smell,
In them your mold
And soul do dwell,

Since on that land
We met... we talked!
No dream can lend
That dream I walked...

Since your feet met
The green Agros,
And it's rills fed,
Which prime each rose.

This doting heart
On you eyes sticks,
And bursts in art
Seeing that small pics.

How long a line,
Flies far to you!
How wet a whine
Stains it with dew!

Though I'm a boy -
Forbidden is
Her to annoy
Who did not miss

The love I spend.

So lie unsent.


Though I well know,
My love will grow,
My love will burn
My love won't turn.
 


Still unsent lie
Because this love
Will make me cry
But never move

My pen to bother
My Jing Jing.
Thought not her father
Or her king

And far not man
I am to call
Her mine...Oh! Then
This little soul

Must
Now
Just
Bow

To love, to love
And nothing say,
Nor pain remove.
I must obey!

You'll love her, boy,
Fo your love's man's -
It allways stands,
Ne'er will annoy.






























NOTES ON THE WAY THROUGH IRELAND

When hand of God
Have wrought this land,
It touched the nought
And made it manned

With so much love
And so much wit,
What eyes now prove
When seeing it :

Fresh grass - this rug
Did dress the soil,
Here our men snug
And Irish toil.

Coy flowers here,
Grown by harsh wind,
Don't ask for cheer,
Wear modest hint,
 
Don't take your time,
Stay meekly lone;
So in my rhyme
True fame they own.

        ...
O, ancient roads!
You, paved with loads!
How many men
You served since when
Hardworking hands
Did cleave their lands
With this smooth way
That lies to-day?
        ...

These Irish floods
Are strenuous, quiet,
And this alludes
To Irish might;

This manly stones
Stand calm and still,
Like Irish bones
And Irish will;

The Irish air
Is fresh, not stale,
In it young heir
Themselves find male.

So generous
Is this wide blue,
Soon it will douse
All in it's hue -

It's not too soft,
Like this great race,
Though on it's loft
It's never base.

Because behind
The gloomy clouds
There's a clear mind,
Latent from crowds.
        ...

O! now it rains.
Sky feeds the Earth.
Not Greeks, nor Danes,
Nor sons of North

Can feel this special
Irish rain;
It's drops, celestial,
My rhymes stain.
        ...
O, ancient roads!
You, paved with loads!
How many men
You served since when
Hardworking hands
Did cleave their lands
With this smooth way
That lies to-day?
        ...

This sea that washes
It, filling dishes,
In moments crashes
The ships he wishes

Is willful, calm
As those who build
This knightly realm,
Like sea wide-spilled.

These two free states
For thousands years
Keep their gates
Closed but to fears;

Nursed by the sea
This land's brave folk
Feels very free
The waves to walk.
        ...
 
O, ancient roads!
You, paved with loads!
How many men
You served since when
Hardworking hands
Did cleave their lands
With this smooth way
That lies to-day?
        ...

These mighty walls
Sank not in past;
In Irish souls
They're built to last,

These ancient forts
In them live now,
For Irish lords
To time won't bow.

The Irish men
Still hold their might,
They were great then,
Now still - inside.

There's something saint
In them, laid deep,
So they won't faint
In time's sweep.

I do believe
That they will find
The true relief,
For they... are kind...
        ...

These lines are short,
Like Irish speech,
With little word
Plain truth they reach,
And, like their swords,
Precision teach.




-----THE END-------

Cover letter.

Dear Mr. Green! Oh no -
My feet did never Ireland touch,
Nor eyes have seen, but though-
My soul this land loves very much,
And as we know, great love
Gives more than knowledge ever lends,
So let my poem prove
That my heart knows that grassy lands.

And thank you for the challenge -