wandering_the_noisy_streets Joana. Wandering the noisy streets, Entering the crowded church, Sitting among wild young men, I am lost in my thoughts. I say to myself: the years will fly, And however many are here, we shall all Go down under the eternal vaults. Someone's hour is already at hand. Gazing at a solitary oak, I think: this patriarch Will outlive my forgotten age As it outlived the age of my fathers. When I caress a dear child, I'm already thinking: goodbye! I yield my place to you: it's time For me to decay and you to blossom. I say goodbye to each day, Trying to guess Which among them will be The anniversary of my death. And how and where shall I die? Fighting, travelling, in the waves? Or will the neighbouring valley Receive my cold dust? And though it's all the same To the feelingless body, I should like to rest Closer to the places I love. And at the grave's entrance Let young life play, And the beauty of indifferent nature Never cease to shine. {Pushkin} 010623 ... L. heartsick nights and cold beds 070517 what's it to you? who go blather from