I love you– though I rage at it,
Though it is shame and toil misguided,
And to my folly self-derided
Here at your feet I will admit!
It ill befits my years, my station,
Good sense has long been overdue!
And yet, by every indication,
Love’s plague has stricken me anew:
You’re out of sight– I fall to yawning;
You’re here– I suffer and feel blue,
And barely keep myself from owning,
Dear elf, how much I care for you!
Why, when your guileless girlish chatter
Drifts from next door, your airy tread, anna-21.jpg
Your rustling dress, my senses scatter
And I completely lose my head.
You smile– I flush with exaltation;
You turn away– I’m plunged in gloom;
Your pallid hand is compensation
For a whole day of fancied doom.

When to the frame with artless motion
You bend to cross-stitch, all devotion,
Your eyes and ringlets down-beguiled,
My heart goes out in mute emotion
Rejoicing in you like a child!
Dare I confess to you my sighing,
How jealously I chafe and balk
When you set forth, at times defying
Bad weather, on a lengthy walk?
And then your solitary crying,
Those twosome whispers out of sight,
Your carriage to Opochka plying,
And the piano late at night…
Aline! I ask but to be pitied,
I do not dare to plead for love;
Love, for the sins I have committed,
I am perhaps not worthy of.
But make believe! Your gaze, dear elf,
Is fit to conjure with, believe me!
Ah, it is easy to deceive me!. . .
I long to be deceived myself!anna-4.jpg

Alexander Pushkin (1799 – 1837), Images are grabbed from “Anna Karenina” – Leo Tolstoy

* To Someone, who I would love to share my Evening Walks with.  

William Wordsworth, “The Prelude”:

“When from our better selves we have too long Been parted by the hurrying world, and droop, Sick of its business, of its pleasures tired, How gracious, how benign, is Solitude.”
“You should never close a book until you’ve read something from it…”

Well, just a sentence or a word. It can be very, very revealing. Just read something, anything. Well, read from the top, then…”

“….See, you are sad and happy. You don’t smile but you are content. You are sad and happy at the same time. In Brazil we have a term for that – it’s ‘Saudade’. It’s like … melancholic, nostalgic; it’s very Bossanova…”