Do not fret, do not cry, do not tax <br />Your last strength, and your heart do not torture. <br />You're alive, you're inside me, intact, <br />As a buttress, a friend, an adventure. <br /> <br />I've no fear of standing exposed <br />As a fraud in my faith in the future. <br />It's not life, not a union of souls <br />We are breaking off, but a hoax mutual. <br /> <br />From straw mattresses' sick wretchedness <br />To the fresh air of wide open spaces! <br />It's my brother and hand. It's addressed <br />Like a letter, to you, crisp and bracing. <br /> <br />Like an envelope, tear it across, <br />With Horizon begin correspondence, <br />Give your speech the sheer Alpian force, <br />Overcome the sick sense of forlornness. <br /> <br />O'er the bowl of Bavarian lakes <br />With the marrow of osseous mountains <br />You will know I was not a glib fake <br />And of sugared assurances spouter. <br /> <br />Fare ye well and God bless you! Our bond <br />And our honour aren't tamely domestic. <br />Like a sprout in the sunlight, unbend, <br />And then things will assume a new aspect.<br /><br />Boris Pasternak<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/do-not-fret-do-not-cry-do-not-tax/
