Elysium Of Shades


Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev

Elysium of shades this soul of mine,

Shades silent, luminous, and wholly severed

From this tempestuous age, these restless times,

Their joys and griefs, their aims and their endeavours.

Speak, O my soul, Elysium of shades!

What bonds have you with life? Speak, phantoms summoned

From out a day whose very memory fades —

What have you with this heartless mob in common?


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