My art
Hugo
Beautiful lies
Lie to me beautifully, tell me what I long to hear, tell me about how I am yours, tell me that you forever will be mine, tell me how much you miss me, how much you want me, how much you need me, tell me about the day we met, tell me how much you love me, tell me about the countless nights you didn't sleep well thinking about us, tell me about the precious memories of our meeting, tell me about how your body shivers when you think about me.Tell me beautiful lies, tell me the most beautiful lies ever told to any man.
I don't want to hear the ugly truth.
Why ruin a beautiful story with the truth?
Hugo
Hugo
This is a work of art and I write about a situation that is fictional, hence the placement in "My Art" section of the forums.
I like to write and it gives me pleasure.
Tasha
((Are you a man at all? )))
Why so rude?Every person has the right to decide what will be his work.Views can be different.If I don't like something,I don't read or discuss it.
Natalya
Hahaha ... you in prose repeated the famous poem "Recognition" of the genius of Russian poetry A.S. Pushkin.
Unfortunately, his poetry is difficult to translate and the English-speaking reader cannot appreciate the full charm of his language.
Confession
I love you, though I rage at it,
Though it is shame and toil misguided,
And to my folly self-derided
Here at your feet I will admit!
It ill befits my years, my station,
Good sense has long been overdue!
And yet, by every indication,
Love’s plague has stricken me anew:
You’re out of sight, I fall to yawning;
You’re here, I suffer and feel blue,
And barely keep myself from owning,
Dear elf, how much I care for you!
Why, when your guileless girlish chatter
Drifts from next door, your airy tread,
Your rustling dress, my senses scatter
And I completely lose my head.
You smile, I flush with exaltation;
You turn away, I’m plunged in gloom;
Your pallid hand is compensation
For a whole day of fancied doom.
When to the frame with artless motion
You bend to cross-stitch, all devotion,
Your eyes and ringlets down-beguiled,
My heart goes out in mute emotion
Rejoicing in you like a child!
Dare I confess to you my sighing,
How jealously I chafe and balk
When you set forth, at times defying
Bad weather, on a lengthy walk?
And then your solitary crying,
Those twosome whispers out of sight,
Your carriage to Opochka plying,
And the piano late at night…
Aline! I ask but to be pitied,
I do not dare to plead for love;
Love, for the sins I have committed,
I am perhaps not worthy of.
But make believe! Your gaze, dear elf,
Is fit to conjure with, believe me!
Ah, it is easy to deceive me…
I long to be deceived myself!
Alexander Pushkin
Translation by Babette Deutsch
There are many translations of “Confession”, but not a single one conveys the magical script of Pushkin’s words, only the meaning.
Ben
And... what stopped you from ignoring my post, if you dislike it?
Tasha
I like Your reasoning.I have no doubt that You are an intelligent and educated man.However often speak out too sharply, sometimes rudely.I also do not oblikomorale...You can be smart and polite, right?With my hand no ignore be not can.Men write on forum very rarely.And Your posts have always been interesting.Why don't you write any more?
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