Unknown author, The coloured glasses of kaleidoscope... - translation (rus.)
By unknown author
The coloured glasses of kaleidoscope -
That was is far youth a favourite game.
Growing older, we just carry on
Those splinters of the glass in memory.
While alternating names of our loves,
While chattering, or being angry, joking,
We change the pictures by chance
So easily, as if the tube we're turning.
I'm playing with mosaic of the words.
So I could make the tender picture and
With music of the intricate flower's flock
I could charm you as if with magic wand.
But I can also overturn my blaze,
Which's sharpened by the irony, and well,
Towards the world, thus crossing way
Of someone by its inner angriness.
And this is not the childish game -
In the kaleidoscope of the days
Let's stop! ! ! Let's hold the thought
What patten there would be out laid?
Lyudmila Purgina's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Unknown author, The coloured glasses of kaleidoscope... - translation (rus.) by Lyudmila Purgina )
Poem of the Day
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Being With You, Heather Burns
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- Home And Love, Robert William Service
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1679 - 1718)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
- Heather Burns
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)