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Издательство: Самовар

Автор: Барто Агния Львовна

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Nicholas Gordon

17.11.2012




Cold Comfort in the Chastity of Sorrow

Cold comfort in the chastity of sorrow,
Having turned in pain towards innocence,
Reaching through the madness for the marrow,
Intent, for once, on yielding all pretence;
Sensing the necessity of love
Though feeling none but hunger well within,
Meaning nothing more than one might prove
As one finds little proof in death and sin:
So it was one night in Bethlehem.


Christmas is a holiday for friends

Christmas is a holiday for friends,
However they may be, or not, related.
Remember that the three wise kings were strangers
In search of one remote, uncanny dream.
So may we all be far more than we seem,
Together bound for dark and haunting changes,
More lovely for the loves we have created
Along the lonely paths from means to ends,
Stumbling towards that star of Bethlehem.


Christmas is a time for love and fun

Christmas is a time for love and fun,
A time to reshape souls and roots and skies,
A time to give your heart to everyone
Freely, like a rich and lavish sun,
Like a burning star to those whose lonely sighs
Show need of such a time for love and fun.

For children first, whose pain is never done,
Whose bright white fire of anguish never dies,
It's time to give your heart to every one,

That not one angel fall, to hatred won
For lack of ears to listen to her cries,
Or arms to carry him towards love and fun,

Or friends to care what happens on the run
To adult life, where joy or sadness lies.
It's time to give your heart to everyone,

For God loves all, and turns His back on none,
Good or twisted, ignorant or wise.
Christmas is a time for love and fun,
A time to give your heart to everyone.


Christmas is a time of little time

Christmas is a time of little time.
How we get there is a mystery.
Racing madly mall-to-mall, we climb
Into fields of sunlit harmony.
Shopping, cooking, clearing walks and yards,
Trimming house and tree while working, too;
Making phone calls, wrapping, writing cards,
As all worn out we do what we must do
So that this day of joy might joy renew.


Christmas is for cowards and for thieves

Christmas is for cowards and for thieves.
How might they be loved as dearest friends?
Redemption starts where satisfaction ends.
Instinctively, one does as one believes.
So did Christ love everyone the same
That everyone might love the same as he.
Most children that are loved will loving be
As they become the people they became.
So shall you love all creatures in his name.


Christmas is for cowards and for thieves

Christmas is for cowards and for thieves.
How might they be loved as dearest friends?
Redemption starts where satisfaction ends.
Instinctively, one does as one believes.
So did Christ love everyone the same
That everyone might love the same as he.
Most children that are loved will loving be
As they become the people they became.
So shall you love all creatures in his name.


Christmas isn't easy far apart

Christmas isn't easy far apart.
Holidays are an incessant bell
Ringing through the hollows of the heart,
Invading passages I know too well.
So does Christmas trespass on my sadness,
Taking precious room I save for you.
Missing you is a reclusive madness,
Altering each harmony and hue,
Shadowing each shade I vacant view.



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