By Valeriy Bryusov

(1896)

Don't cry, and don't ponder.

The past is no thing!

With welcoming thunder

The light rushes in.

You're dead, when you slumber,

Come morning you're born,

- So look then, don't wonder,

Where heavens stretch on.

What's timeless - is wanted

What's bitter - courts death...

Undaunted, walk on then,

Ahead and ahead.