My Virtual Reading Room

Как резко день пошел на убыль!
Под осень каждый луч милей...
Грустят серебряные трубы
Прощающихся журавлей.

Как резко жизнь пошла на убыль!
Под осень дорог каждый час...
Я так твои целую губы —
Как будто бы в последний раз...

1965

How suddenly the days started growing shorter!
When it's nearly autumn, every ray of sunshine is more precious...
The silver thrombones of the departing cranes
Sing mournfully.

How suddenly life started growing shorter!
When it's nearly autumn, every hour is precious...
I kiss your lips in such a way
As if it were for the last time...

(Julia Drunina, 1965)

[duathir--here you are :))

ВЕСЕННИЙ БАЛ

1

Если вам семнадцать лет,
Если вас зовут Наташа,
То сомнений больше нет,-
Каждый бал стихия ваша!
Легкий, бальный туалет
Освежит портниха Маша,
Ослепительный букет
Вам предложит ваш предмет,
Задыхающийся Яша,
Или, если Яши нет,
То Володя или Саша...
Пенье скрипок! Розы! Свет!
Первый бал в семнадцать лет -
Это лучший бал, Наташа!

A Spring Ball

1.
If you're seventeen years old,
If your name is Natasha,
Then there can be no further doubts--
At every ball, you should be in your element!
The light ball dress
The seamstress Masha will freshen up,
A dazzling bouquet
Will be offered to you by your beau,
Breathless Yasha,
Or, if there's no Yasha,
Then a Volodya or a Sasha...
The singing of the violins! Roses! Light!
A first ball at seventeen years of age--
it's the best ball, Natasha!
( Read more... )

(this holiday season/New Year's)

...To absent friends...

"Но те, которым в дружной встрече
Я строфы первые читал…
Иных уж нет, а те далече,
Как Сади некогда сказал.
Без них Онегин дорисован.
А та, с которой образован
Татьяны милый Идеал…
О много, много Рок отъял!

Блажен, кто праздник Жизни рано
Оставил, не допив до дна
Бокала полного вина,
Кто не дочел Ее романа
И вдруг умел расстаться с ним,
Как я с Онегиным моим.".

"But those, to whom, at an amicable gathering
I had been reading the first verses of my book...
Some are no more, and others are far away,
As Saadi had once remarked.
I finished sketching Onegin without them,
And she, from whose pattern
The lovely image of Tatyana was formed...
Oh, how much, how much has Fate taken away!

Blessed is he who left the feast of Life
Early, not drinking the full glass of wine
To the the lees,
Who hadn't finished reading Her Novel
And was able to part with it suddenly,
As I part with my Onegin."

(Pushkin, the last lines of his novel in verse "Eugene Onegin")

[and no, I don't quite agree, but I thought it might interest some of you to see the full quote. It was the first four lines that I was really thinking of.]

elenbarathi reminded me of this poem yesterday--I don't recall if I'd posted it here before, but either way, here you are :)
~~

If They Come in the Night

Long ago on a night of danger and vigil
a friend said, why are you happy?
He explained (we lay together
on a cold hard floor) what prison
meant because he had done
time, and I talked of the death
of friends. Why are you happy
then, he asked, close to
angry.

( "I said, I like my life..." )

You must match time’s swiftness with your speed in using it, and you must drink quickly as though from a rapid stream that will not always flow…

Just as travelers are beguiled by conversation or reading or some profound meditation, and find they have arrived at their destination before they knew they were approaching it; so it is with this unceasing and extremely fast-moving journey of life, which waking or sleeping we make at the same pace — the preoccupied become aware of it only when it is over.

(Seneca)

( same in text format: )

(and yes, I know there's a misplaced apostrophe and some other errors; I didn't make this graphic)

Life Owes Me Nothing

Life owes me nothing. Let the years
Bring cloud or azure, joy or tears;
Already a full cup I’ve quaffed;
Already wept and loved and laughed.
And seen, in ever-endless ways,
New beauties overwhelm the days.

Life owes me nought. No pain that waits
Can steal the wealth from memory’s gates;
No aftermath of anguish slow
Can quench the soul fire’s early glow.
I breathe, exulting every breath,
Embracing Life, ignoring Death.

Life owes me nothing. One clear morn
Is boon enough for being born;
And be it ninety years or ten,
No need for me to question when.
While Life is mine, I’ll find it good.
And greet each hour with gratitude.

Anonymous

“Waiting for a sign? What sign do you await, besides your own misery? What sign, besides the calendar that reminds you how many days and years you’ve thrown away?

What other sign do you need besides the burning inner fire that demands you’re better than what you’ve settled for?
Stop lying to yourself! You have seen so many signs… you know what you want… no more delays… no more excuses!

Our days are too limited to wait for signs… Life IS a sign! Go live it!”

~ Steve Maraboli

Thomas Edwin Mostyn (British, 1864-1930)
Gather Ye Rosebuds While Ye May,1899
Oil on canvas ; 36 x 60 inches
Rehs Galleries

(reposted from elle_belle10's FB pg)

To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time
Robert Herrick, 1591 - 1674

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.

( The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,... )

I thought I'd posted this before, but it seems I hadn't; I must remedy the omission...
~~

Mimnermus in Church

YOU promise heavens free from strife,
Pure truth, and perfect change of will;
But sweet, sweet is this human life,
So sweet, I fain would breathe it still;
Your chilly stars I can forgo,
This warm kind world is all I know.

You say there is no substance here,
One great reality above:
Back from that void I shrink in fear,
And child-like hide myself in love:
Show me what angels feel. Till then
I cling, a mere weak man, to men.

You bid me lift my mean desires
From faltering lips and fitful veins
To sexless souls, ideal quires,
Unwearied voices, wordless strains:
My mind with fonder welcome owns
One dear dead friend's remember'd tones.

Forsooth the present we must give
To that which cannot pass away;
All beauteous things for which we live
By laws of time and space decay.
But O, the very reason why
I clasp them, is because they die.

William (Johnson) Cory. 1823–1892

Gift
by
Rabindranath Tagore



O my love, what gift of mine
Shall I give you this dawn?
A morning song?
But morning does not last long—
The heat of the sun
Wilts like a flower
And songs that tire
Are done.

( Read more... )

"We have only this moment, sparkling like a star in our hand...and melting like a snowflake. Let us use it before it is too late."

(Marie Beynon Ray)

* * *
Мы знаем: время растяжимо.
Оно зависит от того,
Какого рода содержимым
Вы наполняете его.

( Read more... )

* * *

We know: time is stretchable.
It depends on
The kind of contents
With which you fill the time.

( Read more... )

WHEN DEATH COMES

When death comes

like the hungry bear in autumn;

when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;

when death comes

like the measle-pox

when death comes

like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

( I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering: )

THE FOURTH SIGN OF THE ZODIAC (PART 3)

I know, you never intended to be in this world.
But you’re in it all the same.

So why not get started immediately.

I mean, belonging to it.
There is so much to admire, to weep over.

And to write music or poems about.

Bless the feet that take you to and fro.
Bless the eyes and the listening ears.
Bless the tongue, the marvel of taste.
Bless touching.

You could live a hundred years, it’s happened.
Or not.
I am speaking from the fortunate platform
of many years,
none of which, I think, I ever wasted.

Do you need a prod?
Do you need a little darkness to get you going?

Let me be as urgent as a knife, then,
and remind you of Keats,
so single of purpose and thinking, for a while,
he had a lifetime.

(Mary Oliver)

Read further in this article from Brainpickings

IS THAT NOT WORTH EXPLORING?

Dear Ones -

Yesterday I posted a message about not giving up on your daydream, and a lovely follower of this page asked what you should do if you have "too much family stuff" going on in order to live your dream?

( Read more... )

Originally posted by leto_12 --many thanks!( побудь с яблоком, с его зёрнами, )( just be with the apple, with its seeds, )

           * * *
Наслаждайтесь: все проходит!
То благой, то строгий к нам,
Своенравно рок приводит
Нас к утехам и к бедам.
Чужд он долгого пристрастья:
Вы, чья жизнь полна красы
На лету ловите счастья
Ненадежные часы.
Не ропщите: все проходит,
И ко счастью иногда
Неожиданно приводит
Нас суровая беда.
И веселью и печали
На изменчивой земле
Боги праведные дали
Одинакие криле.

1834 

This poem must be done to-day;
Then, I 'll e'en to it.
I must not dream my time away,--
I 'm sure to rue it.
The day is rather bright, I know
The Muse will pardon
My half-defection, if I go
Into the garden.
It must be better working there,--
I 'm sure it's sweeter:
And something in the balmy air
May clear my metre.

( In the garden: )

“Let whatever you do today be enough. Let go of the judgement you have about what you should be or could be doing, and today, allow yourself to simply be. Comparing yourself and your journey may be habitual, but it gets you nowhere. It makes you feel worse and it keeps you stuck.

So stop fixating on where everyone else is, and start giving yourself permission to be exactly where you are. Quiet the voice telling you to do more and be more, and trust that in this moment, who you are, where you are at, and what you are doing is enough. You will get to where you need to be in your own time. Until then, breathe.

Breathe and be patient with yourself and your process. You are doing the best you can to cope and survive amid your struggles, and that’s all you can ask of yourself. It’s enough. You are enough.”

– Daniell Koepke