Thursday, January 1, 2004
Recovery Comments
Rating: ★2.7
As a wild flower hangs its head and wilts
Beneath the reaper's killing scythe,
Ill, I awaited my untimely end
And thought: the fateful hour's nigh.
...
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Konstantin Nikolaevich Batiushkov
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1/12/2026 4:25:08 AM # 1.0.0
I love the melancholy of the Russian soul. Seeing this world without love as a dark and gloomy place (Erebus) which we cross on our way to Hades (Hell) . Why has it always got to be Hades? But he gives that thought a miss when love blooms again. To die of love. How lovely!