People
by Yevgeny Yevtushenko
No people are uninteresting.
Their fate is like the chronicle of planets.
Nothing in them is not particular,
and planet is dissimilar from planet.
And if a man lived in obscurity
making his friends in that obscurity
obscurity is not uninteresting.
To each his world is private,
and in that world one excellent minute.
And in that world one tragic minute.
These are private.
In any man who dies there dies with him
his first snow and kiss and fight.
It goes with him.
They are left books and bridges
and painted canvas and machinary.
Whose fate is to survive.
But what has gone is also not nothing:
by the rule of the game something has gone.
Not people die but worlds die in them.
Whom we knew as faulty, the earth's creatures.
Of whom, essentially, what did we know?
Brother of a brother? Friend of friends?
Lover of lover?
We who knew our fathers
in everything, in nothing.
They perish. They cannot be brought back.
The secret worlds are not regenerated.
And every time again and again
I make my lament against destruction.
posted by ErinMary @ 11:50 AM
1 comments
1 Comments:
I just wanted to say thanks for leaving a message on my blog. I'm liking not having to temp every day! Have you join Fertility Friend? My user name on there is Lisa_Marie. I normally hang out in Michigan TTCers in the TTC in our 20s board. I'm also in the Off Topic area alot. After trying for 9 months, I can't handle going to the Waiting to Test area. Thanks again. Lisa
http://lisamarie517.blogthing.com
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