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Winner of the Battle of the week
30 de abril — 6 de mayo de 2022
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1 de septiembre de 2021
Winner of the Battle of the week
4 — 10 de mayo de 2022
Winner of the Battle of the week
10 — 16 de mayo de 2022
Vídeo del día
27 de junio de 2020
Vídeo del día
8 de julio de 2020
Vídeo del día
13 de septiembre de 2020
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16 de octubre de 2020
Vídeo del día
5 de junio de 2020
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8 de julio de 2020
Gustos
47
Sergei Yarashuk
Henrique Ogata No3 Filmes
Gediminas Janka
Alex Cirstea Videographer
Global Cinema Production
Mamuka Chokheli
Apostolos Passos
Ivashkevich Alexey
Magic Video
Elena CH Photo & Video
Vitaly Zubko
Ivo Vartanian
Elzhas Bazarbaev
OMEGA Studio
Rec Studio
Vitaliy Shyshkivskyi
ZHenya Pavlovskaya
Pavel Moiseychenko
Alexander Shulgin
Denis Peremitin
Salim Aliev
Tina Malkova
PK video Films
Feraru Viorel
Alex Ktistakis and Elena Mavraki
MAXIM ABDULAEV
Stepan Yudintsev
Vitalie Burbulea
Mihai Butănescu
Video Graphy
Igor Koba
Sklyar Studio
Alexander Novikov
Razlog Andrei
Tibor Soos
Дмитрий Горин
Vladimir Sherstobitov
Artur Akhmetov
Zaharov Eugeny
Volodymyr Bondarenko
Andrii Dariienko
Alexandr Ritz
Robo Video
FilmEvents by Burza
Dmitry Chekan
Nikolay Savelyev
Arturo di Roma Studio
ARINA | morning of the bride
Why, when your guileless girlish chatter
Drifts from next door your airy tread,
Your rustling dress, my senses scatter
And I completely lose my head.
You smile - I flush with exultation;
You turn away - I'm plunged in gloom,
Your pallid hand is compensation
For a whole day of fancied doom.
Arine! I ask but to be pitied,
I do not dare to plead for love;
Love, for the sins I have committed,
I am perhaps unworthy of.
But make believe! Your gaze, dear elf,
Is fit to conjure with, believe me!
Ah, it is easy to deceive me!...
I long to be deceived myself!.
(A. S. Pushkin)
Drifts from next door your airy tread,
Your rustling dress, my senses scatter
And I completely lose my head.
You smile - I flush with exultation;
You turn away - I'm plunged in gloom,
Your pallid hand is compensation
For a whole day of fancied doom.
Arine! I ask but to be pitied,
I do not dare to plead for love;
Love, for the sins I have committed,
I am perhaps unworthy of.
But make believe! Your gaze, dear elf,
Is fit to conjure with, believe me!
Ah, it is easy to deceive me!...
I long to be deceived myself!.
(A. S. Pushkin)
Ekaterimburgo, Rusia
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