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Birthday: 12/25


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Able translation of one of Russia’s greatest poets Michael Lermontoff, (or, Mikhail Lermontov) by Alex Condie Stephen. One illustration. Printed in 1875.

“...Cold and regretless shalt thou view this sphere,
Where crime’s inseparable from fate,
Where beauty only blossoms to grow sear,
Where all is miserable, where, without fear
No one can either love or hate.
Know’st thou, Tamára, what is mortal love?
A febrile movement of the blood!
Years roll away—the pulse can scarcely move,
Love’s wither’d branches cease to bud.
Who can resist new beauty’s luring bait?
Who, parting, never shed a tear?
Who can withstand the tedium of fate,
The weariness of all things here?
No, my beloved, believe, ’tis not thy lot
To perish in a living grave,
In silence, languish on this narrow spot,
Of brutal jealousy the slave....”

A storm cloud stalks me making Explainwhat should be a sunny dayShed tears of lonesome despair in the form of rainI've devoted my life to rid you of your painFor feelings of acceptance which reveal themselves feignedDo not mind that, scream the voices in my brainBut if I stop giving, only I remainThough I know not of miseryFor I lack the company it needs to be entertainedBut misery would be a nice changeThis solitude drives me insane

I'm sticking to the script ya'll skippin scenes