The pity of it is that it was sheer accident- an ordinary cruel and senseless accident. Thats the pity of it! Five minutes, I was just five minutes late! Had I come back five minutes earlier, that moment would have flashed past like a cloud, never to enter her head again. And it would have all ended in her understanding everything. But now there are empty rooms again, and I all alone. There's the pendulum swinging and clicking without the the least concern or pity for anything. There's no one- that's the misery of it!
Oh, nature! People are alone on this planet, thats the trouble! "Is there a living soul in this field?" cries the hero of a Russian legend. Though no legendary hero, I make the same call, but no one responds. They say the sun gives life to the universe. But the sun rises and- look -isn't it dead? Everything is dead, the dead lie everywhere! Just solitary people, and all about- silence. That's the kind of world we live in. "People, love one another" -who said that? Whose commandment is it? The pendulum is clicking unfeelingly, horridly. It's two in the morning. Her shoes are standing beside her bed, as though waiting for her... Now, they'll take her away tomorrow, and I shall wait here all alone??
Excerpts from a short story (or novella perhaps) by Feodor Dostoevsky.
No comments:
Post a Comment