The whole world is a theatre, and also people are its actors, but what a nuisance, it is not fairly clear who is its playwright, it is the odd chance, though, as sure as eggs is eggs.
After all, if not it, then who on earth else! Its scenery is the nature.
The time is its make-up artist.
Maybe a great secret is its stage-director.
Yet then there can be no doubt in that God is alone both its spectator and its connoisseur.
Time after time the life seems to us like a tragedy, ups and downs compose its simple and plain plot.
The shroud is as a fallen curtain.
Sometimes the sad end resembles not a ridiculous farce and the heroic death looks like a star turn.
In silence happiness has suddenly knocked at my door, have you really come to see me? I believe and at the same time I refuse to do it point-blank! It was snow, it was a dawn, it was the drizzling autumn.
Tell me please where on earth you have been for so many years? All of a sudden as in a dream the door has squeaked.
Now everything has become clear to me.
For ages I have been arguing with my destiny for the sake of this meeting with you.
I sailed over the seas and I suffered from both hungry and cold on the way to my purpose.
Now I know it was not in vain, all in my life was to the point and full of sense.
At last it has happened, it has come true now! Even don't think of asking me how without you the world has been treating me.
Who waits for happiness that one shall overcome everything, however very hard it may be.
If only all of it were not in vain.
God forbid! We have a plain concern, Our interest is such: If only our native land were thrived, And there are no other cares at all! There are both snow, and wind, And the nocturnal flight of stars...
My heart calls me ahead Into the disturbing long road.
Even if grief comes after grief And it never rains but pours, Yet our friendship only will die At the same time as we do so.
While we are able to walk, While we are able to see, While we are able to breathe, We are to strive to go ahead! And the same way as all Sometime you will meet your love, - It will pass bravely with you Through both thunders and storms.
Do not believe all songs have been sung, And all storms have calmed down, Be ready to achieve a great aim, Then the fame will find you itself.
There are both snow, and wind, And the nocturnal flight of stars...
My heart calls me ahead Into the disturbing long road.
Heavenly clouds, you are the eternal pilgrims! By some string of pearls you rush over through Azure steppes, as if you were like me exiles, From my lovely north southwards.
Who does drive you: whether it is the solution of destiny? Maybe it is either the secret envy or the undisguised rage? Perhaps upon your minds a crime hangs heavily? Or the poisonous slander of friends? No, you were tired and bored with the fields fruitless...
Both passions and sufferings are alien to you; For you being invariably cold, constantly free There is neither any native land nor any banishment.
If like me you love infinitely, If you live for love and breathe it, Just put carelessly your hand on my breast: The pulses of my heart you will feel under it.
Oh, do not reckon them! In them there is the magical energy, Each impulse is overflowed with you; As if in some spring of water after the curative stream The liquid spouted by the hot spurt.
Drink it, be given to cheerful instants, - The arousing pleasure will hug all your soul; Drink it - and do not ask with your curious glance, Whether soon the heart is going to run low And how quickly it is to cool down.
He is blissful who handles a word expertly and also controls his thought, who lulls or presses down the snake instantly hissed in his heart.