Philosophy of Love. V. Speys

hilosophy of Love

      V. Speys

      © V. Speys, 2022

      ISBN 978-5-0059-4200-5

      Created with Ridero smart publishing system

      Philosophy of Love

      The sunset was running in a wavy, slow river.

      Through its yellow light streamed

      Your image is golden…

      Unshared Love

      Quiet, ingratiating walking

      The night is filled with you,

      The street has passed.

      Morning, the light dawn,

      Radiant play

      Following led.

      The day went on with a clear light.

      And a beam of amber dressed,

      Shone with fire.

      Only you are not with me

      Do not be warmed by your love

      Paints fade in it.

      Moon Ray

      Moon foliage silvered

      And Ray, casually dropping,

      The young girl, has forgotten

      Illuminating the window.

      And Ray Selena, surprised,

      Struck by young beauty,

      Froze in amazement,

      Admiring virgin’s nudity.

      The moon, his casting, having committed,

      In heaven, among the stars fell asleep.

      Shining mountain letting go,

      Ray, asleep granny.

      And the Ray, suddenly, felt the force

      Radiance brilliance and beauty.

      Think of myself, as the Moon,

      As an important page in height.

      And the girl dreamed of a prince,

      Battled by virgin nudity

      To the Persians, bowing down.

      His own, touching the beauty…

      Moonlight Sonata

      A warm evening floats towards sunset,

      In a gray haze doze home.

      And silently sings sonata

      The setting Day of Silence.

      Outside the window the ocean shines,

      The moon spreads fairy tale.

      Through the rays arises, sculpted,

      An image of a pretty woman, a wave.

      The windows of the room are translucent.

      A light shadow slides the moon.

      And mysteriously, strangely, mysteriously.

      In the moonlight she appeared…

      Already standing before me shyly,

      A look sad at the drooping.

      The golden Wavy hair are loose,

      Soft curls gentle motive.

      The night replaced the sunset

      Already in the shine the moon, sleeps at home.

      Only, barely audible, sings the sonata

      Moon tale Silence.

      Your image is golden…

      The transparent sky burns,

      On tapes of clouds, gold, throws.

      Crystal yellow leaf.

      The sunset, dimming, fades away…

      My beautiful, shy,

      You bare my shoulder.

      Light up pearl shine…

      A smooth hand touched

      The waves of the body…

      And, startled, you are tense.

      The waves through the fabric are translucent,

      Sigh gently under the canvas.

      And anxiously, in a fit of passionate,

      Impatiently ripped off he…

      So before me, in the twilight,

      Wavy, slow river, sunset was running.

      Through its yellow light streamed

      Your image is golden.

      Above the fast run of vernal waters

      Above the fast run of vernal waters,

      Already buds blossomed.

      The trees a slender arch,

      On the branches of small leaves.

      The moon in the silence of the night stands.

      Haystacks cast shadows.

      The river glitters in its rays

      A wave of foam is full.

      And is a girl in the waves of the river

      Frolicking, as fish slid,

      Foam in them, the wave drove.

      Over the waves the girl lifted,

      Under the moon river caressed her.

      Above the fast run of vernal waters,

      Already buds blossomed.

      And brighter than the moon’s sky,

      Gentle early leaves.

      You are no longer with me

      In the depths of fast waters.

      Only the memory of you sings:

      – “You were once proud of her!

      That girl in the waves of the river,

      What fish slid with you,

      That foam hid in them,

      That dance with the wave drove…

      You remember, wounded, behind her,

      Cupid’s arrow in the heart,

      Dived! Already near, with her!…

      Do girls have a heart singing?!”

      Oh! How beautiful was!

      Spring, loose buds.

      And the bank of the river is a cliff,

      And the first love sprout.

      I do not believe in myth

      I do not believe in myth, no, I do not believe.

      But, in reality, I met with you.

      From my fairy tale you may be inspired.

      I feel a breeze in the spring…

      Even