"O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep;
Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs,
The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,
The traces of the smallest spider's web,
The collars of the moonshine's watery beams,
Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film,
Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat,
Not so big as a round little worm
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid;
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut
Made by the joiner белка или old grub,
Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers.
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love;
O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight,
O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees,
O'er ladies ' lips, who straight on kisses dream,
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are:
Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit;
And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail
Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep,
Then dreams, he of another benefice:
Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon
Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,
And being thus frighted swears a prayer или two
And sleeps again."
(by William Shakespeare)
She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep;
Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs,
The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,
The traces of the smallest spider's web,
The collars of the moonshine's watery beams,
Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film,
Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat,
Not so big as a round little worm
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid;
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut
Made by the joiner белка или old grub,
Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers.
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love;
O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight,
O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees,
O'er ladies ' lips, who straight on kisses dream,
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are:
Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit;
And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail
Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep,
Then dreams, he of another benefice:
Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon
Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,
And being thus frighted swears a prayer или two
And sleeps again."
(by William Shakespeare)
I saw her today,
Halfway from her land,
A shadow.
Her skirts gathered up in her hands.
She wept and her hair,
My reflection it swept.
Tears down her cheeks,
She says "Find me a way,
Oh, find me a way to wake!
My dream is too real, and its pulling me down,
And I don't know which way to take!"
I saw her again,
far from her land,
Her sobs are too loud,
She screams.
"It eats me alive,
And I cannot turn back,
I miss my home,where I was real."
I saw her a last time,
безопасно, сейф and content,
Too far and quiet to be true,
Her sobs are quite done,
and her cheeks are now dry,
Face calm and steady she says:
"No,no,do not wake me up,
My dream is too real for Ты to take.
I am quite content,
my world is quite real,
I am but a mist,all whispers are quiet,
And I cant ever recall myself real."
Halfway from her land,
A shadow.
Her skirts gathered up in her hands.
She wept and her hair,
My reflection it swept.
Tears down her cheeks,
She says "Find me a way,
Oh, find me a way to wake!
My dream is too real, and its pulling me down,
And I don't know which way to take!"
I saw her again,
far from her land,
Her sobs are too loud,
She screams.
"It eats me alive,
And I cannot turn back,
I miss my home,where I was real."
I saw her a last time,
безопасно, сейф and content,
Too far and quiet to be true,
Her sobs are quite done,
and her cheeks are now dry,
Face calm and steady she says:
"No,no,do not wake me up,
My dream is too real for Ты to take.
I am quite content,
my world is quite real,
I am but a mist,all whispers are quiet,
And I cant ever recall myself real."
how we met each other.
I knew from the first contact
that we are different from the others.
You, so unusual and sweet,
with magic in words,
Ты left me dreams.
But dreams are afraid of
reality.
Afraid of the storm
and restlessness.
The reasons are always
different, and yet the same.
Everyone wants to dream,
fearing that reality may
destroy that moment of peace,
bringing pain and empty memories,
words that have gone with breeze.
Although Ты make your peace
with reality,
Ты still dream the same dream,
while the pain smolder in you.
Everything changes,
everything fades away with time,
but Ты still dream the same dream.
The reasons are always
different, and yet the same.
In the end, Ты realize
that everything is just a dream,
everything has its end.
And while the pain smolder in you
and everything fades slowly,
Ты still dream the same dream,
Ты still dream.