Explore "Winter19" by Taras Shevchenko on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Thy youth is over; time has brought / Winter upon thee; hope is grown / Chill as the north wind; thou art old.
Sit thou in thy dark house alone; / With no man converse shalt thou hold, / With no man shalt take counsel; nought.
Nought art thou, nought be thy desire.
Sit still alone by thy dead fire / Till hope shall mock thee, fool, again, / Blinding thine eyes with frosty gleams, / Vexing thy soul with dreams, with dreams / Like snowflakes in the empty plain.
Sit thou alone, alone and dumb; / Cry not for Spring, it will not come.
It will not enter at thy door, / Nor make thy garden green once more, / Nor cheer with hope thy withered age, / Nor loose thy spirit from her cage.
Sit still, sit still! Thy life is spent; / Nought art thou, be with nought content.