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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=461396" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Leaf</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A little oak leaf tore off from its branch<br>Was driven o'er the steppe by a cruel gale;<br>Dried up and withered from the cold, the heat and sorrow<br>It finally alit by the Black Sea shore.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A young plane tree stands by the Black Sea shore;<br>A whispering wind strokes her green boughs;<br>On her green boughs sway heavenly birds<br>Singing the praises and fame of the queen of the sea.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The traveler lit at the soaring tree's roots;<br>Anguished he pled for a moment's shelter,<br>And these were his words: &quot;I am but a poor oak leaf,<br>Matured before my time in a grim homeland.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For ages I've wandered without a goal, all alone<br>Without shade I withered, without repose, faded.<br>Would you welcome this stranger among your emerald leaves,<br>I know many stories of wonder and wisdom.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;But why do I need you?&quot; the young tree replies, -<br>&quot;You are dusty and yellow - ill-suited to my wholesome young sons.<br>You've seen many things - but what use do I have for your tales?<br>The heavenly birds have long wearied my ears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O traveler! Be on your way. You are a stranger to me!<br>Beloved by the sun, I bloom and shine for him;<br>My boughs are spread in the heavenly fields,<br>The cool sea refreshes and washes my roots.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Mikhail+Yuryevich+Lermontov">Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov</a><div class=q>
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<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=461396" data-title="The Leaf de Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov" data-description="A little oak leaf tore off from its branch
Was driven o'er the steppe by a cruel gale;
Dried up and withered from the cold, the heat and sorrow
It finally alit by the Black Sea shore.

A young plane tree stands by the Black Sea shore;
A whispering..."></div>
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