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!

Friday 14 February 2014

614: Last Word on Love This February 14th

At The Ball

I chanced to see you. Music played,
Vain chatter filled the place
It seemed as though a veil were laid,
 Across your secret face.

Your eyes alone were sad; your way
Of speaking ravished me,
As though I heard a far pipe play,
And on the shores, the sea.

How welcome was your look of thought,
Your figure tall and slight;
And that clear laugh with sadness fraught
Is in my heart tonight.

And when the noise of day is stilled
Once more they come to me,
Those eyes with so much sadness filled,
That voice, with gaiety.

Down to the depths of sleep I go,
Where dreams uncaptured move.
But do I love you? Who can know?
Yet this, I think, is love.

Alexei Konstanovich Tolstoy (1817-1875)

This little gem appears in a slim volume published in 1943 (by Faber & Faber Ltd) and found today.  The translation is credited to Frances Cornford and E. Polianowsky Salaman.  

The italics are mine - and mine alone...

Until the next time.

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