Aleksey Konstantinovich Tolstoy

(5 September 1817 - 10 October 1875 / Saint Petersburg)

Burnt Out Is Now My Misery - Poem by Aleksey Konstantinovich Tolstoy

Burnt out is now my misery--
love's yearning
No more unspeakably torments my heart,
Yet bearable alone through thee, my being--
All thou art not is idle, stale and dying,
Colourless, withered, dead,--save where thou art!

If I no more through false suspicion trouble
Thy happiness,--nor more my blood inflames my veins,
It is not turned to ice 'neath snowy cover,
But free from jealousy, to thee thy lover
Always with soul of ardour true remains.

So in their rapid fury mountain torrents
That hurl them off their moss-grown altars steep,
Seeking the flood with tossing, foaming riot--
Here in the vale are bound in the old currents,
To stream in future calm and clear and deep!

Comments about Burnt Out Is Now My Misery by Aleksey Konstantinovich Tolstoy

  • Rookie Terrance Henry (1/31/2012 9:03:00 PM)

    Eloquent and so sad. Misery is no more, (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Monday, April 19, 2010

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