<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341187" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Thoughts</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">If I walk the noisy streets,<br>Or enter a many thronged church,<br>Or sit among the wild young generation,<br>I give way to my thoughts. <br>I say to myself: the years are fleeting,<br>And however many there seem to be,<br>We must all go under the eternal vault,<br>And someone?s hour is already at hand. <br>When I look at a solitary oak<br>I think: the patriarch of the woods.<br>It will outlive my forgotten age<br>As it outlived that of my grandfathers?. <br>If I dandle a young infant,<br>Immediately I think: farewell!<br>I will yield my place to you,<br>For I must fade while your flower blooms. <br>Each day, and every hour<br>I habitually follow in my thoughts,<br>Trying to guess from their number<br>The year which brings my death. <br>And where will fate send death to me?<br>In battle, in my travels, or on the seas?<br>Or will the neighbouring valley<br>Receive my chilled ashes? <br>And although to the senseless body<br>It is indifferent wherever it rots,<br>Yet close to my beloved countryside<br>I still would prefer to rest. <br>And let it be, beside the grave?s vault<br>That young life forever will be playing,<br>And impartial, indifferent nature<br>Eternally be shining in beauty.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Alexander+Sergeyevich+Pushkin">Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341187" data-title="Thoughts de Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin" data-description="If I walk the noisy streets, Or enter a many thronged church, Or sit among the wild young generation, I give way to my thoughts. I say to myself: the years are fleeting, And however many there seem to be, We must all go under the eternal vault, A..."></div> </div> </div>

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