I can't sleep. Light a candle? Only there are no matches. The whole world is silent, and I am silent, I gaze at the lunar light. And think: how many eyes In just this same silence, At such a quiet, clear hour Are trained on the moon. How tedious it must be to swim Above our heads, To coat strange windows with silver And to see so many eyes. A century ahead, a century back, But in the world all is the same- Dogs bark, and dreamers Gaze out the window. G. Ivanov - 1931.
Past one o’clock. You must have gone to bed. The Milky Way streams silver through the night. I’m in no hurry; with lightning telegrams I have no cause to wake or trouble you. And, as they say, the incident is closed. Love’s boat has smashed against the daily grind. Now you and I are quits. Why bother then To balance mutual sorrows, pains, and hurts. Behold what quiet settles on the world. Night wraps the sky in tribute from the stars. In hours like these, one rises to address The ages, history, and all creation.
No, I'll not weep: I have full cause of weeping, But this heart shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, Or ere I'll weep; O Fool, I shall go mad."
"Gradually there settles down a dreadful, eternal silence of the cemetery. All go mad, without words, they realise what is happening within them, and make up their minds for the last shift: to hide their grief for ever from men, and to speak in commonplace, trivial words which will be accepted as sensible, serious, and even lofty expressions. No longer will anyone cry: "Life is a waste," and intrude his feelings on his neighbours. Everybody knows that it is shameful for one's life to be a waste, and that this shame should be hidden from every eye. The last law on earth is—loneliness..."
Résigne-toi, mon coeur, dors ton sommeil de brute!
(Resign yourself, my heart, sleep your brutish sleep)
(I don't plan on petting you, Dear Friends, with that very introduction).
Given my artless surroundings, it seems my contemporaries think I should be embarrassed about what they don't understand. And so at their wish, as a necessary form of masochism, I'm considering taking up smoking as a pastime. So I put the question to you, and don't worry, I will measure your response by its artlessness, and thus despise myself further, Is this the right course to take? Bear in mind the neigh'sayers (I'm expecting a riposte from many a horses mouth)... will likely find themselves scorned, given, a) the artlessness of their reproaches for such an activity, and b) my determination to infuriate those who think they know better, since those same people really are the most artful of all prosaics, who quite frankly need an artistic slap in the face. I'm becoming hastily sickened by your artlessness but you'd still rather I digest it all myself. Hence why... I Better take up smoking. And when in hospital bed with a screaming heart, just dying to be decaffeinated. Don't be fooled. If this kind of masochism is the only way, to live, then it is better to be alive now, so to regret later on...
Regards, SiBot http://elitedaily.com/news/world/building-future-britain-bans-smoking-anyone-born-year-2000/651720/ 1, Smoking hasn't been banned 2,"Smoking is not a rational, informed choice of adulthood. Eighty percent of smokers start as teenagers as a result of intense peer pressure." As I have posited, quite on the contrary, its a rational deduction, given our surroundings; a slow process of self-immolation. 3, Thankfully I'll still be free/classified old enough to still be able to necessarily intoxicate myself.
It takes quite a time, to get to know people, smoke many a packet of cigarettes till you raise that wonderful word you're needing from the deep artesian folk wells. -Mayakovsky, 'Talking with the taxman about poetry'