by Olga Berggolts
All friends are saying: 'All is good
To save from evil, rage one part of Tragedy,
One part of your soul, as thruth...'
But who has said that to divide I'm able?
And how could I hide my passion in a half,
Without notion of it to be the passion?
How could I give to people only one part,
When life is worth to give them in that case?
No, if there's a pain - the soul is sick,
If there's a pleasure - it is burning bright.
Not by the force of fear it reveals
Itself - but by the freedom's might.
That's my wish, my belief and my love will.
Don't dare to feel pity with me either.
Even my death I never shall concede
For your compulsive happiness so tiring.
- - -
In russian and translation into bulgarian
by Krasimir Georgiev
http: //www.stihi.ru/2013/01/23/29
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem