inneroptics:

Umbo

the60sbazaar:

Marcello Mastroianni

kulturtava:

Wayne Levin

lament-for-the-past:

VII. 

On a sloping pine branch, downward bending
Often an early morning breeze
Over the peaceful gravestone wending
Rocked to and fro a silent wreath.
And often, when the sky was darkened,
Arm in arm two friends came here,
And in the moonlight sat and hearkened,
Embraced each other, and shed a tear.
But now… forgotten lies the stone;
The pathway there is overgrown,
And the branch of its old wreath is bare.
Alone in its shade, wrinkled with care,
The same old shepherd sings, and sits
Plaiting his shoes with wooden strips.

VIII, IX, X.
My poor Lensky. Not long did Olga
Grieving for you, weep for your fate.
Alas! Young girls keep faith no longer,
Their sorrow has an uncertain date.
Another came and took her fancy,
Another who swamped her very soul
With love’s sweet lore and flattery.
A Cossack who bewitched her utterly;
A Cossack she loves with love unending.
And now beneath the altar standing,
With modest grace under the wedding crown,
She stands and blushes, her eyes cast down,
Her head is bowed, her heartbeat skips,
And a light smile flutters upon her lips.