by Alexander Pushkin
I shed my tears; my tears – my consolation;
And I am silent; my murmur is dead,
My soul, sunk in a depression’s shade,
Hides in its depths the bitter exultation.
I don’t deplore my passing dream of life --
Vanish in dark, the empty apparition!
I care only for my love’s infliction,
And let me die, but only die in love!
The pain will never go away;
by Nicholas Gordon
The wound will never heal.
The evil that was done to you
Is now your eyes, your heart.
The black will never turn to gray;
The blood will not congeal.
The violence is never through;
The past does not depart.
Time will merely make you whole,
Consuming what you are:
Part sufferer, part comforter,
Part victim, part new song;
Part mother of an angry soul,
Part child of despair,
Part witness and part conqueror
Of all that did you wrong.