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Poems On / About RIVER  1/31/2015 4:35:50 PM
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  117.     

Song, There Flows The River Volga... - translation (rus.)

The original singer is Mark Bernes
The most popular is Lyudmila Zykina

1. And from afar longly
There flows the river Volga,
There flows the river Volga,
Without edge or end.
Between the crops rape so,
Between the white snow
There flows the river Volga -
And seventeen I am.

2. Once mother said: 'Son, all may be in life,
Perhaps you'll get from roads simply tired.
When you reach home in the end of way -
Then put your palms in Volga's water fair.'

3.And from afar longly
There flows the river Volga,
There flows the river Volga
Without edge or end.
Between the crops rape so,
Between the white snows
There flows the river Volga,
And thirty years I am.

4. Your first light glance,
And your first splash of oar -
All that were, but the river's taken all.
I'm not in pine for spring, passed long ago,
Instead of it I have your love and close.

5. And from afar longly
There flows the river Volga,
There flows the river Volga
Without edge or end.
Between the crops rape so,
Between the white snows
I look a you, Volga,
For seventy years long.

6. Here's the moorage mine,
And here are my friends,
All that is neccessary for life span.
From distant stretches of the riverbed
The other young boy's singing song as yet.

7. And from afar longly
There flows the river Volga,
There flows the river Volga
Without edge or end.
Between the crops rape so,
Between the white snows
There flows the river Volga -
And seventeen I am.

- -
http: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=dt3AwWRN9tA
 
Lyudmila Purgina

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  118.     

The New-England Boy's Song About Thanksgiving Day

Over the river, and through the wood,
To grandfather's house we go;
The horse knows the way,
To carry the sleigh,
Through the white and drifted snow.

Over the river, and through the wood,
To grandfather's house away!
We would not stop
For doll or top,
For 't is Thanksgiving Day.

Over the river, and through the wood,
Oh, how the wind does blow!
It stings the toes,
And bites the nose,
As over the ground we go.

Over the river, and through the wood,
With a clear blue winter sky,
The dogs do bark,
And children hark,
As we go jingling by.

Over the river, and through the wood,
To have a first-rate play-
Hear the bells ring
Ting a ling ding,
Hurra for Thanksgiving Day!

Over the river, and through the wood-
No matter for winds that blow;
Or if we get
The sleigh upset,
Into a bank of snow.

Over the river, and through the wood,
To see little John and Ann;
We will kiss them all,
And play snow-ball,
And stay as long as we can.

Over the river, and through the wood,
Trot fast, my dapple grey!
Spring over the ground,
Like a hunting hound,
For 't is Thanksgiving Day!

Over the river, and through the wood,
And straight through the barn-yard gate;
We seem to go
Extremely slow,
It is so hard to wait.

Over the river, and through the wood-
Old Jowler hears our bells;
He shakes his pow,
With a loud bow wow,
And thus the news he tells.

Over the river, and through the wood-
When grandmother sees us come,
She will say, Oh dear,
The children are here,
Bring a pie for every one.

Over the river, and through the wood-
Now grandmother's cap I spy!
Hurra for the fun!
Is the pudding done?
Hurra for the pumpkin pie!
 
Lydia Maria Francis Child

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  119.     

Learn From The Song Of The River

Learn from the river. It flows.
It does not ever stop or stand still.
It would only be a puddle, if it stopped.
It would evaporate, dry up, cease to be, if it fell in love with a scene, staying there, never to move again.
The river leaps over rocks, swirls around anything that blocks its way.
If something obstructs that is too big to move, too hard to dissolve, the river simply washes over and around; persistently, unrelentingly wearing away at the obstruction, until the river conquers and reconstructs its pathway and time is all it takes.
The river sings a varied melody, because it incorporates into its singing, what ever comes into its course.
Under low hanging trees, between high rising hillsides, over sand or piles and stacks of rocks, between narrow banks, through wide passes, covering deepest crevasses, flirting along shallow bottoms,
the river adjusts its song, as it changes its environment.
It creates new harmony with the alto of the earth's echoes,
the soprano of the leaves and grasses,
the basso grande of the rock face and walls of hills and mountains.

Over and above, the tenor of the sky sings recitative,
the melody of God's creation, blending the song of the river into unmatched beauty with all.
We, who try to live like a river, will flow.
No myth will conquer us, saying, 'Stay here, eternity will find this all unchanged.'
We know that the fleeting moment never will pass again, those same low hanging branches.
The river sees each scene but once.
We who live like a river, understand that each rock of crisis,
each bend in our course, which drives us to a new direction,
can never still our song.
For the river flows on eternally, in the course set only by God.
And the river blesses or curses, as it wills, everything that it passes
 
Phyllis Thompson Halle

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  120.     

**Sediments of life**

Fresh and so curious
With purity and innocence,
What lies ahead, eager to know
As a stream we start to flow

Along this course down a hill
So many brooks of hope and vision
….of strength, dream and will
Conjoin as big river
Step ahead and flow further

In the course of life
This river is just young
Wild is its imagination
So strong, its ambition
Upwelling of its emotions
To secure a future, identity to define
Push the flow to rapids, down the valley to fly
The river of youth, went in speedy currents
On its way carried what was there on the earth

Down a deep gorge
As the water swiftly surge
Its strength at climax
Churn the drift to cataracts
In misty foam or a rainbow’s arc
The river leaves a benchmark

We as rivers, flow in currents
Posing on achievement and failure
Unfaltering and calm is the mid course river
Wide is its bank, serene its journey
As it steadily flows for legacy

On trails of time clays to imprint
To pass on layers of silt,
To witness its once existence,
It residues on the track of life

We as rivers, flow in currents
The long trip from its head
Through its voyage to recollect
At the last course, in the sunset
The river ponders on its sediment

At the mouth awaits the sea
As an outlet to infinity
And mistakes learned, toiled effort
Life of success, well travelled path
Enough sediments, brings about
Fertile ground to cultivate
A platform to reflect
Delta of life before the sea
Leaves the river to eternity…

Sediments of life to pile up
At the end since the start
Determined to move, if hope ever fails
The river ends without a trace
Through sieve of life, having no sift
The salty water the river meets

Rivers we are, to sediment in time
Flow in currents, life to define.
 
Fasika Ayalew

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