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  • If I Walk The Noisy Streets

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    Teja Tanchangya
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    The document is a poem about contemplating mortality. It describes how the speaker thinks about their own death and fleeting time on earth when observing everyday things like walking in streets, being in churches, or interacting with children and nature. The speaker wonders where and how they will die, and expresses a preference to be buried close to their beloved countryside where young life will play near their grave and nature's beauty will shine eternally.

    Original Description:

    A poem by Alexander Pushkin

    Original Title

    Pushkin

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    The document is a poem about contemplating mortality. It describes how the speaker thinks about their own death and fleeting time on earth when observing everyday things like walking in streets, being in churches, or interacting with children and nature. The speaker wonders where and how they will die, and expresses a preference to be buried close to their beloved countryside where young life will play near their grave and nature's beauty will shine eternally.

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
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    Download as docx, pdf, or txt
    22 views2 pages

    If I Walk The Noisy Streets

    Uploaded by

    Teja Tanchangya
    The document is a poem about contemplating mortality. It describes how the speaker thinks about their own death and fleeting time on earth when observing everyday things like walking in streets, being in churches, or interacting with children and nature. The speaker wonders where and how they will die, and expresses a preference to be buried close to their beloved countryside where young life will play near their grave and nature's beauty will shine eternally.

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Flag for inappropriate content
    Download as docx, pdf, or txt
    of 2

    If I walk the noisy streets,

    Orenteramanythrongedchurch,
    Orsitamongthewildyounggeneration,
    Igivewaytomythoughts.
    Isaytomyself:theyearsarefleeting,
    Andhowevermanythereseemtobe,
    Wemustallgoundertheeternalvault,
    Andsomeone'shourisalreadyathand.
    WhenIlookatasolitaryoak
    Ithink:thepatriarchofthewoods.
    Itwilloutlivemyforgottenage
    Asitoutlivedthatofmygrandfathers'.
    IfIcaressayoungchild,
    ImmediatelyIthink:farewell!
    Iwillyieldmyplacetoyou,
    ForImustfadewhileyourflowerblooms.
    Each day, every hour
    Ihabituallyfollowinmythoughts,
    Tryingtoguessfromtheirnumber
    Theyearwhichbringsmydeath.
    Andwherewillfatesenddeathtome?
    Inbattle,inmytravels,orontheseas?
    Orwilltheneighbouringvalley
    Receivemychilledashes?

    And although to the senseless body


    It is indifferent wherever it rots,
    Yet close to my beloved countryside
    I still would prefer to rest.
    And let it be, beside the grave's vault
    That young life forever will be playing,
    And impartial, indifferent nature
    Eternally be shining in beauty.

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