There was a time once, when I thought That those whose hair is grey Don't love, Don't pine, Don't get sad.
I thought that those who are grey Look at the women And at the girls The way saints do.
That the blood of those who are grey, Which used to hum wildly, Like the river, Which watered the meadows, Now flows Smoothly And calmly, Not undermining The shores in its passion.
No, A grey river Has the same wildness, The same speed, The same depth...
Oh, how my grey hair lets me down, Because it doesn't divest me Of this carnal feeling!
a poem by Vasily Fedorov ;) [sorry for my inexpert translation]
Date: 2012-05-20 08:16 pm (UTC)That those whose hair is grey
Don't love,
Don't pine,
Don't get sad.
I thought that those who are grey
Look at the women
And at the girls
The way saints do.
That the blood of those who are grey,
Which used to hum wildly,
Like the river,
Which watered the meadows,
Now flows
Smoothly
And calmly,
Not undermining
The shores in its passion.
No,
A grey river
Has the same wildness,
The same speed,
The same depth...
Oh, how my grey hair lets me down,
Because it doesn't divest me
Of this carnal feeling!