Why this Blog?

A place where I can lament the changing times; for eccentric comments on current affairs and for unfashionable views, expressed I hope, in cogent style; also occasional cris de coeur largely concerned, I regret to say, with myself.


I welcome your comments, so do please write. Please note however that all comments are moderated prior to publication. Whilst I fully appreciate that life can be frustrating, nevertheless, abuse, SMS language and illiteracy will not be tolerated!

Sunday, 23 March 2014

646: Poetry Time

Poetry: a medium for the realist, the escapist, the romantic, the broken-hearted or even the optimist.

Though frequently baffled by the likes of Shakespeare, Donne, Shelley, Eliot and many others, I am still drawn from time to time by poetry.  This time here's a piece from one of Russia's greatest writers, Alexander S. Pushkin; it has the title Outlived Desire:

Outlived desire now departs,
My dreams I cannot love again;
I reap the fruit of empty hearts,
The fruit of pain.

The tempests of a cruel fate
My fair and flowery garlands rend;
Unhappy and alone I wait;
When comes the end?

So, stricken by the early cold,
The whistling, bitter gales of grief,
Still the autumn branches hold
One shuddering leaf.

(Tr. Frances Cornford and E. Polianowsky Salaman)
If the above suggests to you a particular mood on my part, then I can assure you that you are entirely correct.

Until the next time

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