Нина Николина анастасия Романов

WOMEN ELECTED As a current of fresh water through the pungent sea,  Our secret loves, tenderly entwined,  Pass through this impious century, to the thought  Lasts, and has not put his soul into his flesh. We have the drunken smile of the white wedding  Who mix our touching and milky contours,  And in our eyes survives the last beauty  Of the world, and in our hearts the last priesthood. We drive among the balsams and flowers  The slowness of our rhythmic steps like stanzas,  Carrying alone the sovereignty of the stuffs,  The stones and the make-up, and the pride of the colors. We are the mirror of ourselves, the dawn  Which is repeated at the bottom of the silent lake,  And our passion is a precious wine  Who burns, contained in a double amphora. But sometimes the fierce gleam of our looks  Fear those who are damned,  And the horror lives in us as well as in our elders  Who lamented the nights in their scattered hair, For through

You drink pure milk   You drink the pure milk of my serene soul ...   My little infant who did not see the light of day ...   And on her white knees, she cradles yours by speaking to him in a low voice of life with a heavy forehead.   Here is the milk of spirit and the milk of tenderness ...       Here is the golden look cast upon the heavens;   Taste near my heart the dawn of wisdom;   For on earth you will never understand better.  See, my soul on you bowing still more, in the time that you sleep in the cradle of my flank ... Embold the blond birds with threads of dawn to drape over your being a sparkling veil; She is dreaming of your nebulous soul, whose young nucleus is still softened, and announces to you the day, prudent and anxious ... By letting it filter through its polished fingers ... First open your eyes to my sweet twilight, prepare them for a long time to the glare of the sun, fly in my gardens, light as a bubble, So as not to surprise you too much on awakening ...

Sappho Doucement, les vagues de l'océan  chante leur chant éternel  et doucement la nuit de printemps humide  m'enveloppe. Mon âme vous cherche. Oh, viens  petit troupeau de filles! Je veux boire de ta beauté. Donnez vos cheveux sauvages au vent, et déposez vos rames en silence. Mon enfant pâle, donne moi ta bouche  et nourris mes propres feux fous. Comme vos lèvres rouges sont rafraîchissantes. Vous n'avez pas appris comment l'amour se sent encore. Et toi, avec votre crinière épaisse de boucles d'or rouge  coulant presque jusqu'à vos talons, comme des vagues de flammes, montre moi les feux qui brillent et scintillent  de tes yeux. Vous ne devez pas me quitter, car vous êtes aussi belle que le soleil brillant. Et vous deux  soeurs timide et mince  aussi pâle que le clair de lune, avec ton chagrin tranquille  et vos douleurs silencieuses d'amour. Avec la splendeur de marbre de vos membres  brillant comme la mousse lisse d

Sappho Slowly, the waves of the ocean sings their eternal song and gently the wet spring night envelops me. My soul is looking for you. Oh, come on little flock of girls! I want to drink your beauty. Give your wild hair to the wind, and put your oars in silence. My pale child, give me your mouth and fed my own crazy fires. As your red lips are refreshing. You have not learned how love still feels. And you, with your thick mane of red gold buckles flowing almost to your heels, like waves of flames, show me the lights that shine and sparkle of your eyes. You must not leave me, for you are as beautiful as the bright sun. And you two sister shy and slim as pale as the moonlight, with your quiet grief and your silent pains of love. With the marble splendor of your limbs shining like the smooth foam of the waves, and your hair at night, you're quieter than a dream. Oh bouquet of flowers! Oh, flock of girls!

                                                                                                                                                                                                        T OUCHER             Les arbres ont gardé du soleil dans leurs branches. Voilé comme une femme, évoquant l’autrefois, Le crépuscule passe en pleurant… Et mes doigts  Suivent en frémissant la ligne de tes hanches.  Mes doigts ingénieux s’attardent aux frissons d e ta chair sous la robe aux douceurs de pétale… L’art du toucher, complexe et curieux, égale . Les rêves des parfums, le miracle des sons. Je suis avec lenteur le contour de tes hanches... Tes épaules, ton col, tes seins inapaisés. Mon désir délicat se refuse aux baisers; Il effleure et se pâme en des voluptés blanches.                                                    TOUCH The trees kept the sun in their branches. Veiled like a woman,

Tu tettes le lait pur Tu tettes le lait pur de mon âme sereine... Mon petit nourrisson qui n'as pas vu le jour... Et sur ses genoux blancs elle, berce la tienne e n lui parlant tout bas de la vie au front lourd. Voici le lait d'esprit et le lait de tendresse...     Voici le regard d'or qu'on jette sur les cieux; Goûte près de mon coeur l'aube de la   sagesse;  Car sur terre jamais tu ne comprendras mieux.   Vois, mon âme sur toi s'inclinant plus encore,d ans le temps que tu dors au berceau de mon flanc... Brode des oiseaux blonds avec des fils d'aurore p our draper sur ton être un voile étincelant; Elle forme en rêvant ton âme nébuleuse,d ont le jeune noyau est encore ramolli,e t t'annonce le jour, prudente et soucieuse... En le laissant filtrer entre ses doigts polis... Ouvre d'abord tes yeux à mon doux crépuscule,p répare-les longtemps à l'éclat du soleil; Vole dans mes jardins, l

VOWW MEMBER& COUNTRY REPRESENTATIVE IN RUSSIA NINA NIKOLINA ANASTASIYA ROMANO SHARES POETRY "YOU DRINK PURE MILK" Posted by Nina Nikolina Anastasiya Romano on September 3, 2017 at 2:30pm View Blog You drink pure milk You throw away the pure milk of my serene soul, My little infant who did not see the light, And on her white knees she cradles yours Speaking to him in a low voice of life with a heavy forehead. Here is the milk of mind and the milk of tenderness, Here is the golden look cast upon the heavens; Taste near my heart the dawn of wisdom; For on earth you will never understand better. See, my soul on you bowing still more, In the time you sleep in the cradle of my side, Brode of blond birds with aurora threads To drape over your being a sparkling veil; It forms in dreaming your nebulous soul Whose young kernel is still softened And announces to you the day, prudent and anxious, By letting it filter through its polished fingers. First open yo