The murmurs ebb; onto the stage I enter. <br />I am trying, standing in the door, <br />To discover in the distant echoes <br />What the coming years may hold in store. <br /> <br />The nocturnal darkness with a thousand <br />Binoculars is focused onto me. <br />Take away this cup, O Abba Father, <br />Everything is possible to Thee. <br /> <br />I am fond of this Thy stubborn project, <br />And to play my part I am content. <br />But another drama is in progress, <br />And, this once, O let me be exempt. <br /> <br />But the plan of action is determined, <br />And the end irrevocably sealed. <br />I am alone; all round me drowns in falsehood: <br />Life is not a walk across a field.<br /><br />Boris Pasternak<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hamlet-2/
