Nature is not as you imagine her...
Nature is not as you imagine her:
She's not a mold, nor yet a soulless mask-
She is made up of soul and freedom
She is made up of love and speech . . .
................
Observe the leaves and flowers on a tree:
Was it some gardener glued them there?
And is a growing child in the womb
The work of alien, external forces? . . .
................
They do not see and do not hear
They live in this world as if in darkness,
For them, it seems, the stars don't breathe
And ocean waves are not alive.
The sun's rays have not reached their soul,
Spring's never bloomed within their breast,
The forest does not speak to them
And starry nights are always mute!
And, roiling woods and rivers
With unearthly speech,
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poem by Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
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O, how our love is murderous
O, how our love is murderous,
The dearer something is to us
The surer are we to destroy it
In passion's savage blindness!
Was it so long ago you said,
Proud of your victory: she's mine . . .
Barely a year gone - stop and think,
What has remained of her?
Where are the roses in her cheeks,
Her smiling lips and shining eyes?
Rivers of scalding tears
Have scorched and burned them all.
Do you remember how you met,
Your very first, your fateful t?te-?-t?te;
Her gaze enchanting and her words,
Her laughter --lively, child-like?
What have you now? Where is it all?
Was it a lasting dream?
Alas, like northern summers,
It was a fleeting guest!
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poem by Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
Added by Poetry Lover
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