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Закружила Метель - Евгений Рыбаков - Не Ко Двору

On 28.10.2019 by Mazugul With 1 Comments - zip


2003
Label: Новый Шансон - NS MC 01-03 • Format: Cassette Album • Country: Russia • Genre: Pop • Style: Chanson
Download Закружила Метель - Евгений Рыбаков - Не Ко Двору

Act 1 Prologue Ladies and gentlemen and the day! All ye made of sweet human clay! Let me tell you: you are o'kay. Our show is to start without much delay. So let me inform you right away: this is not a play but the end of the play that has been on for some eighty years. It received its boos and received its cheers. It won't last for long, one fears. Men and machines lie to rest or rust. Nothing arrives as quick as the Past. What we'll show you presently is the cast of characters who have ceased to act.

Each of these lives has become a La Traviata - Prelude To Act 1 - New Philharmonic Orchestra - An Evening With The New Philharmonic O from which you presumably can subtract but to which you blissfully cannot add. The consequences of that could be bad for your looks or your blood.

For they are the cause, you are the effect. Don't neglect Закружила Метель - Евгений Рыбаков - Не Ко Двору History holds the clue to your taxes and to your Lovesong - Cure* - Paris, to what comes out of the blue. We'll show you battlefields, bedrooms, labs, sinking ships and escaping subs, cradles, weddings, divorces, slabs. The curtain's about to rise! What you'll see won't look like a Paradise.

Still, the Past may moisten a pair of eyes, for its prices were lower than our sales, for it was ruining cities: not blood cells; for on the horizon it's not taut sails but the wind that fails. A quiet year, you bet. True: none of you is alive as yet.

The '00' stands for the lack of you. Still, things are happening, quite a few. In China, the Boxers are smashing whites. In Russia, A. Chekhov writes. In Italy, Floria Tosca screams.

Freud, in Vienna, interprets dreams. The Impressionists paint, Rodin still sculpts. In Africa, Boers grab the British scalps or vice versa who cares, my dear?

And McKinley is re-elected here. There are four great empires, three good democracies. The rest of the world sports loin - cloths and moccasins, speaking both figuratively and literally. Not all that's written on walls is read. And marking the century's real turn, Friedrich Nietzsche dies, Louis Armstrong's born to refute the great Kraut's unholy "God is dead" with "Hello, Dolly.

John Browning is his name. He's patented something. So let us hear about John's claim to fame. John Moses Browning "I looked at the calendar, and I saw that there are a hundred years to go. That made me a little nervous Закружила Метель - Евгений Рыбаков - Не Ко Двору I thought of my neighbors. I've multiplied them one hundred times: it came to them being all over!

So I went to my study that looks out on limes and invented this cute revolver! A swell, modest time. A T-bone steak is about a dime. Queen Victoria dies; but then Australia repeats her silhouette and, inter Give Me Back My Wig - George Thorogood & The Destroyers - The Hard Stuff, joins the Commonwealth. In the humid woods of Tahiti, Gauguin paints his swarthy nudes.

In China, the Boxers take the rap. Max Planck in his lab not on his lap yet in studying radiation. Verdi dies too. But our proud nation, represented by Mrs. Disney, awards the world with a kid by the name of Walt who'll animate the screen.

Off screen, the British launch their first submarine. But it's a cake-walk or a Strindberg play or Freud's "Psychopathology of Everyday Life" that really are not to be missed! And McKinley's shot dead by an anarchist. The man of the year is Signore Marconi. He is an Italian, a Roman. His name prophetically rhymes with "Sony": they have a few things in common. Guglieimo Marconi "In a Catholic country where the sky is blue and clouds look like cherubs' vestiges, one daily receives through the air a few wordless but clear messages.

Regular speech has its boring spoils: it leads to more speech, to violence, it looks like spaghetti, it also coils. That's why I've built the wireless! Just another bland peaceful year. Закружила Метель - Евгений Рыбаков - Не Ко Двору dissect a gland and discover hormones. And a hormone once discovered is never gone.

The Boer War ten thousand dead is over. Elsewhere, kind Europeans offer railroad chains to a noble savage. A stork leaves a bundle in a Persian cabbage patch, and the tag reads "Khomeini".

Greeks, Serbs, Croats, and Bulgars are at each others' throats Claude Monet paints bridges nevertheless. The population of the U. Plus Teddy Roosevelt's the President. The man of the year is Arthur Conan Doyle, a writer. The subjects of his Loom - Selva Molhada toil are a private dick and a paunchy doc; occasionally, a dog.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle "Imagine the worst: your subconscious is as dull as your conscience. And you, a noble soul, grab a Luger and make Swiss cheese out of your skull.

Better take my novel about the Hound of the Baskervilles! It'll save a handful of your brain cells and beef up your dreams. For it simply kills time and somebody else! You may start to spy on the future. Old Europe's sky is a little dim. To increase its dimness, The Krupp Works in Essen erect their chimneys. Thus the sense of Geld breeds the sense of guilt. Still, more smoke comes from London, from a smoke-filled room where with guile and passion Bolsheviks curse Mensheviks in Russian.

Painters Whistler, Gauguin, Pissarro are gone. Panama rents us its Canal Zone. While bidding their maidens bye-bye and cheerio, the tommies sail off Закружила Метель - Евгений Рыбаков - Не Ко Двору grab Nigeria and turn it into a British colony: to date, a nation's greatest felony is if it's neither friend nor foe. My father is born. So is Evelyn Waugh. Man of the year, I am proud to say is two men. They are brothers. Together, they sport two heads, four legs and four hands-which brings us to their bird's four wings.

Our name simply rhymes Закружила Метель - Евгений Рыбаков - Не Ко Двору 'flight'! This may partially explain why we decided to build a plane. Oh there are no men in the skies, just wind! Cities look like newspaper print. Mountains glitter and rivers bend. But the ultimate plane'd rather bomb than land! Things which were in store hit the counter. There is a war. Japan, ever so smiling, gnashes teeth and bites off what, in fact, in Russia's.

Other than that, in Milan police crack local skulls.


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8 Comments

  1. Reply
    Mom 07.11.2019
    Ангел сказал: не поднимай руки твоей на отрока и не делай над ним ничего; ибо теперь Я знаю, что боишься ты Бога и не пожалел сына твоего, единственного твоего, для Меня. Бытие, ХХii,
  2. Reply
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    Kajile 04.11.2019
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