Жизнь, прожитая иностранцем
В своей стране
огромной
любимой
сердечной
Happiness only real when shared
Не обращайте внимания на людей, которые указывают, что вам делать. Вместо
этого сосредоточьтесь на создании условий, в которых вы будете делать то, что вам
нравится
Чего не сделала с ними жизнь, сделали размышления о ней
Под страхом собственных смертей
В желанье быть
Мы слёзы будущих детей
Через края готовы лить
Простите нас за слабость душ,
За то, что глубока
Печаль кровавых луж,
За облака
Some people do not have to search, for they find their niche early in life and rest there seemingly contented and resigned. At times, I envy them but usually I do not understand them… And seldom do they understand me. I am one of those searchers. There are, I believe, millions of us. We are not unhappy, but neither are we completely content. We continue to explore ourselves, hoping to understand. We like to walk along the beach; we are drawn to the ocean, taken by its power and unceasing motion, its mystery and unspeakable beauty. We like forests, mountains, deserts, hidden rivers, and lovely cities as well. Our sadness is as much a part of our lives as our laughter. We are ambitious only for life itself and for anything beautiful it can provide. Most of all, we want to love and be loved, to live in a relationship that will not impede our wanderings and prevent our search. We do not want to prove ourselves to others or compete for love. This passage is for wanderers, dreamers, and lovers who dare to ask of life everything which is good and beautiful