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odna's Journal

Created on 2003-04-27 13:43:28 (#1028522), last updated 2003-04-27

26 comments received, 1 comment posted

Basic Info
Name:Наташка
Birthdate:06-17
Location:crapville, Pennsylvania, United States

Contact:

gloomier@aol.com
Bio

А это, дамы и господа, про меня. Хотите, читайте, не хотите, всё равно читаьте!


about this journal...

This journal is primarily written in Russian. I was born in St. Petersburg, Russia, and have lived there until I turned seven. At that point, my family and I moved to Germany, and the following year, we migrated to the United States. Since then, I've spent about seven years of my life in New York City and three in Pennsylvania, however, I've moved around within NYC and PA quite a lot as well. I speak Russian at home, but that's basically the only place I use Russian. I went to Russian school for two months, and I learned to read when I was three, but I haven't written much in Russian since I left the country. This journal will hopefully help me improve my writing skills in Russian. I also have two other livejournals that are in English, and I use those more often and those posts are more relevant to my life and less for educational purposes, if you may. Anyway, I think I should quit with this bio crap or whatever this is. God, what a relief it is to be writing this in English though! I don't have a Russian keyboard and I can't get one since I have a laptop, so I had to print out a scheme of the keyboard and it takes me about thirty seconds to write each word. In English, I type about a hundred words per minutes. What can I say, I'm a dork! :) And damn proud of it! AND I will start my sentences with AND all I fucking want!! Okay, seriously, I'm done now :)




Я хотел бы пройти сто дорог,
А прошел пятьдесят.
Я хотел переплыть пять морей,
Переплыл лишь одно.
Я хотел отыскать берег тот,
Где задумчивый сад,
А вода не пускала
И только тянула на дно.

Я хотел посадить сто деревьев
В пустынном краю,
Я пришел в этот край,
Только ветер унес семена.
И из сотни дверей
Так хотел отыскать я свою,
И,как-будто,нашел,
А за ней оказалась стена.

Так хотел я постичь этот мир,
И ,увы, не постиг,
Но не зря это горькое счастье
Мне богом дано.
Жить в стране недопетых стихов,
Недописанных книг,
Что б из тысяч несказанных слов
Вам сказать хоть одно.


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