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A poem by Ivan Turgenev |
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What Shall I Think?... |
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Title: What Shall I Think?... Author: Ivan Turgenev [More Titles by Turgenev] What shall I think when I come to die, if only I am in a condition to think anything then? Shall I think how little use I have made of my life, how I have slumbered, dozed through it, how little I have known how to enjoy its gifts? 'What? is this death? So soon? Impossible! Why, I have had no time to do anything yet.... I have only been making ready to begin!' Shall I recall the past, and dwell in thought on the few bright moments I have lived through--on precious images and faces? Will my ill deeds come back to my mind, and will my soul be stung by the burning pain of remorse too late? Shall I think of what awaits me beyond the grave ... and in truth does anything await me there? No.... I fancy I shall try not to think, and shall force myself to take interest in some trifle simply to distract my own attention from the menacing darkness, which is black before me. I once saw a dying man who kept complaining they would not let him have hazel-nuts to munch!... and only in the depths of his fast-dimming eyes, something quivered and struggled like the torn wing of a bird wounded to death.... _August 1879._ [The end] GO TO TOP OF SCREEN |