the Blues [Theme]

My health is better. I had a good winter. At the end of it, only the melancholy came, which I tried in every possible way to defeat. But with the approach of spring, he could not resist. My nerves shook me all over, plunged me into such despondency, into such indecision, into such anguish from my own indecision, that I was completely weary.

How are you still alive, you old asshole?!

The blues and sadness will not overtake me!

Astrov. I haven't eaten anything today, just drank. Your father has a difficult character. (Takes a bottle from the sideboard.) May I? (He drinks a glass.) There is no one here, and you can speak directly. You know, it seems to me that in your house I would not survive for one month, I would suffocate in this air ... Your father, who has completely gone into his gout and books, Uncle Vanya with his blues, your grandmother, finally, your stepmother ...

- It is picturesquely said! - picked up Salov. - But here's what, my friend, the only and surest remedy for blues is cards: let's sit down and start playing with them.

From the minute I enter her yard, my blues disappear instantly.

From time to time it became a little easier for him, then again the blues and anxiety heaped on him - he left the house at the wrong time and returned at the wrong time, was angry about trifles and did not pay attention to things of great importance.

And then suddenly a blues will attack him: "I don't want, he says, to get drunk, I want to be executed about my sins."

On Pierre, as before, they did not find moments of despair, blues and disgust for life; but the same illness, which had formerly been expressed in sharp fits, was driven inside and did not leave him for an instant.

However, we must admit everything frankly: whether the nerve was upset, whether from new impressions in a new apartment, from the recent blues, but little by little and gradually, from the very onset of dusk, I began to fall into that state of mind that so often comes to me now, and which I call mystical horror. This is the most severe, painful fear of something that I myself cannot define, something incomprehensible and non-existent in the order of things, but which will certainly, perhaps, this very minute, come true, as if in a mockery of all the arguments of reason will come to it will appear before me as an irresistible fact, terrible, ugly and implacable. This fear usually grows stronger and stronger, in spite of any arguments of reason, so that finally the mind, in spite of the fact that at these moments, perhaps even greater clarity, nevertheless loses all possibility of opposing sensations. They do not obey him, he becomes useless, and this dichotomy further increases the fearful longing of expectation. It seems to me that this is partly the longing of people who are afraid of the dead. But in my anguish, the uncertainty of the danger further aggravates the torment.

- I like to mope. When someone is killed.

- I like to mope. When someone is killed.

Everything went in order
study at Yak, UTB and IL
not frightened by the difficulties,
though a bit of a stink.

Les roses étaient toutes rouges
Et les lierres étaient tout noirs.
Chère, pour peu que tu te bouges,
Renaissent tous mes désespoirs.
Le ciel était bleu trop, trop tendre,
La mer trop verte et trop l'air doux.
Je crains toujours, ce qu'est d'attendre! -
Quelque atroce de fuite vous.
Du houx à la feuille vernie
Luisant Et du buis je suis las
Et de la campagne infinie
Et de tout, fors de vous, hélas!




All the roses were too Aly,
Ivy resolutely black
MA chere, take part in small,
Spare me from the Blues.
The sky was too blue,
Fresh air, a sea of green,
I will dwell in the sadness now
- You must wait a trick.
Holly leaves glitter mirror
Boxwood gloss compels the eye
Fields of endless heat foil -
All of the tires... except You!