And Boring And Sad Poem by Emil Sharafutdinov

From Lermontov

And boring and sad, and none to be given a hand
When a minute of suffering comes…
Desires! .. what's the use of desiring vainly without a stand? ..
While years pass by — all the best ones!

To love… whom again? … for a while — it is not worth the pains,
But to love for eternity no one could.
Shall you look in yourself? — of the past no vestige remains:
There all has been nothing: every joy, every wound…

What passions? — after all sooner or later their pleasant disease
At the voice of your reason shall pass;
And life, look around with cold attention — it is
Such an empty and silly farce…