An Ode to Joy
Dear Anna:
Its been a while, a long while even, since I was in Russia (about perhaps, 240 years);
back then, Pushkin, was the man in and about, Russia itself.
It seems though, that things have changed, as Russia now, is all very much, about Anna.
It does not shock me, or surprise me even, that it has all, come to this,
but I must admit, as a Prussi at heart, that the change, does seem, overwhelming to me;
It is as if, the only thing Russian, about Russia, are the rocks, the birds, the grass,
or even, the good old Russian Bear (or medved).
Even the water has changed, and the sky, does seem a bit duller than it always was,
and foreseeably perhaps, I can't help, but blame all this, on you.
Let me explain myself, my dorogoy, for even, the Russian itself, seems to escape, or fail me even.
When I lived in Russia, everything was bright and sunny, and words, such as Communism, or even, Perestroika, were words, seen in 'Bible School' (and believed having origins too, with the Devil himself). Life was majestic, and you Anna, would have been nothing, more, than the hot, neighbourhood 'Chick'.
When I was in Russia, I happened to live, next to a damsel, just like you, who went by the name, of Karolina. She though, was actually, somewhat prettier, than you are. Karolina, was nice to me, and many a time, she did invite me, for lunch, which many a time too, I denied myself the pleasure, I being Prussi, and she, as she once told me, a real Russi. To this day though Anna, it still breaks my heart, for Karolina, as I have come to realize, was one, of the most beautiful women, that the World, has probably seen, in the last 200 years perhaps.
To this very day too Anna, I still dream of Russia, in a way, you don't. I imagine myself, lying on the grass, looking up, to the very clear skies, before picking up, the book I was reading, and proceeding on, just right before, a welcome interruption, by Karolina herself perhaps even. The Russian Sun, bearing down on my eyes, as Karolina asks why I even bother, to 'bathe in the sun'.
It would hurt me, and sting me even, that she would say this, but Russia, was not always kind, to the Prussian.
But back to you Anna, for you belong, to a Russia, I care not, to be kind to either, for you see Anna, when Karolina left Moscow, on one fine Wednesday evening, she did not, care, to even say goodbye. It broke my heart Anna, and for the rest of my existence, as a Prussian, in Russia, never did I forget Karolina, for no one apparently, ever knew, where she went to. A chance lost perhaps, you might say Anna, and I might say yes, but yet, I always believed (or envisioned really), she would one day, be back, and, everything slightly apparently, would be okay again (including Russia too).
But since then too Anna, lots has changed, and I wonder too, how much Karolina, has changed too; for you see Anna, things happened, and I find myself, wondering to myself really, whether Karolina, would even know me now, or even recognize me perhaps even. For unknown to many, since I last saw Karolina, lots has happened to me; for instance, I became heavily involved, in Islam for example (and as preposterous, as this might sound to Karolina even Anna, my name, is in the History books). I find it ridiculous, that a student out there (of Islam perhaps), would find my exploits, something desirable to read about (and even memorize), for to me, the events of the past, still very much, define me today (as a problematic being).
But back to Karolina Anna, for two days before she left (or mysteriously disappeared), she left me a small note, which I did not actually open, until a week, after its delivery. In it, she had a simple request, that she wished very much, to see me, before she left. Shocking revelation Anna, for it was not, until a year after she left, that the note, struck me distraught, and since then, I truly have not been able to assure myself perhaps, that everything did go well, with Karolina. An attached heart, to memory perhaps Anna, is one wrought, will all forms of pain, and for those who have seen themselves, as being all-knowing to the very least, what happened with Karolina, lays waste, to intelligence and memory perhaps, as nothing more, than tools, of human vainglory.
I am still in love with Karolina Anna, at the very least, wanting to know, what she very much sought, to say to me before she left, and even too, where she was, going to. It haunts me to this day Anna, and a surprise visit to Russia, had me reliving the past, as to the tragedies perhaps, that have secretly befallen Russia, since Karolina, in my mind, mysteriously disappeared. Even the good old donut shop, a place to which even Pushkin, was known to seek recourse too, seems stale and dull, and Russia apparently to me, can never have any true meaning, until I find Karolina again (for an attached heart, to memory perhaps really, knows no other misery, than that of fate driven forlornness).
Yet still Anna, I despair not, for I knew something of Karolina, though she never did say a word to me, that she truly, was probably, in love with me (a Prussian, arrogant in his French like manners, and reclusive, as an Italian probably is). I knew not what to do with Karolina, for while Russia, did feel very much like a home, I could not foresee myself, living in it, totally, and when Karolina left surprisingly, I found Russia too unbearable, and with time, found myself, residing, in Sweden (and still, in love with Russia).
Sweden meant nothing much to me really, and although, I did become a historical fact (as the History books say), I care not to know this, unless I truly know Anna, what ever did happen, to Karolina (its as if, everything I have done since, pales, to truly knowing, what actually did happen really, to Karolina).
So why all this Anna, why write all this to you perhaps, a stranger in all, to all this, other than knowing, Russia perhaps, as I once did too. Well first off, I must mention that, I was Louis Pasteur in Sweden (while the books falsely claim though, he was French). Having said that Anna, I will be bold and say, that I did know Karolina, in one way truly, her eyes, and that too, her eyes shone with such great splendour, that I always told myself since her departure, that should I see her again, I would very much know her, by her eyes. As Louis Pasteur though Anna, and based too, in Uppsala, I did mindlessly discover one thing, while thinking aimlessly about Karolina, Anna: 'Sonic Boom' (which the French, turned into, the Concorde). But still to this day, nothing truly enthralls me perhaps, as having looked deeply into, Karolinas eyes, and nothing shocks me really, as probably never truly knowing, where she did escape too.
Yet still, all this might sound perturbing perhaps, but to make it really so, would be to say, that those eyes of Karolinas, ever so memorable, could very well, have been yours.
Spasibo Anna
Carl
Dear Anna:
Its been a while, a long while even, since I was in Russia (about perhaps, 240 years);
back then, Pushkin, was the man in and about, Russia itself.
It seems though, that things have changed, as Russia now, is all very much, about Anna.
It does not shock me, or surprise me even, that it has all, come to this,
but I must admit, as a Prussi at heart, that the change, does seem, overwhelming to me;
It is as if, the only thing Russian, about Russia, are the rocks, the birds, the grass,
or even, the good old Russian Bear (or medved).
Even the water has changed, and the sky, does seem a bit duller than it always was,
and foreseeably perhaps, I can't help, but blame all this, on you.
Let me explain myself, my dorogoy, for even, the Russian itself, seems to escape, or fail me even.
When I lived in Russia, everything was bright and sunny, and words, such as Communism, or even, Perestroika, were words, seen in 'Bible School' (and believed having origins too, with the Devil himself). Life was majestic, and you Anna, would have been nothing, more, than the hot, neighbourhood 'Chick'.
When I was in Russia, I happened to live, next to a damsel, just like you, who went by the name, of Karolina. She though, was actually, somewhat prettier, than you are. Karolina, was nice to me, and many a time, she did invite me, for lunch, which many a time too, I denied myself the pleasure, I being Prussi, and she, as she once told me, a real Russi. To this day though Anna, it still breaks my heart, for Karolina, as I have come to realize, was one, of the most beautiful women, that the World, has probably seen, in the last 200 years perhaps.
To this very day too Anna, I still dream of Russia, in a way, you don't. I imagine myself, lying on the grass, looking up, to the very clear skies, before picking up, the book I was reading, and proceeding on, just right before, a welcome interruption, by Karolina herself perhaps even. The Russian Sun, bearing down on my eyes, as Karolina asks why I even bother, to 'bathe in the sun'.
It would hurt me, and sting me even, that she would say this, but Russia, was not always kind, to the Prussian.
But back to you Anna, for you belong, to a Russia, I care not, to be kind to either, for you see Anna, when Karolina left Moscow, on one fine Wednesday evening, she did not, care, to even say goodbye. It broke my heart Anna, and for the rest of my existence, as a Prussian, in Russia, never did I forget Karolina, for no one apparently, ever knew, where she went to. A chance lost perhaps, you might say Anna, and I might say yes, but yet, I always believed (or envisioned really), she would one day, be back, and, everything slightly apparently, would be okay again (including Russia too).
But since then too Anna, lots has changed, and I wonder too, how much Karolina, has changed too; for you see Anna, things happened, and I find myself, wondering to myself really, whether Karolina, would even know me now, or even recognize me perhaps even. For unknown to many, since I last saw Karolina, lots has happened to me; for instance, I became heavily involved, in Islam for example (and as preposterous, as this might sound to Karolina even Anna, my name, is in the History books). I find it ridiculous, that a student out there (of Islam perhaps), would find my exploits, something desirable to read about (and even memorize), for to me, the events of the past, still very much, define me today (as a problematic being).
But back to Karolina Anna, for two days before she left (or mysteriously disappeared), she left me a small note, which I did not actually open, until a week, after its delivery. In it, she had a simple request, that she wished very much, to see me, before she left. Shocking revelation Anna, for it was not, until a year after she left, that the note, struck me distraught, and since then, I truly have not been able to assure myself perhaps, that everything did go well, with Karolina. An attached heart, to memory perhaps Anna, is one wrought, will all forms of pain, and for those who have seen themselves, as being all-knowing to the very least, what happened with Karolina, lays waste, to intelligence and memory perhaps, as nothing more, than tools, of human vainglory.
I am still in love with Karolina Anna, at the very least, wanting to know, what she very much sought, to say to me before she left, and even too, where she was, going to. It haunts me to this day Anna, and a surprise visit to Russia, had me reliving the past, as to the tragedies perhaps, that have secretly befallen Russia, since Karolina, in my mind, mysteriously disappeared. Even the good old donut shop, a place to which even Pushkin, was known to seek recourse too, seems stale and dull, and Russia apparently to me, can never have any true meaning, until I find Karolina again (for an attached heart, to memory perhaps really, knows no other misery, than that of fate driven forlornness).
Yet still Anna, I despair not, for I knew something of Karolina, though she never did say a word to me, that she truly, was probably, in love with me (a Prussian, arrogant in his French like manners, and reclusive, as an Italian probably is). I knew not what to do with Karolina, for while Russia, did feel very much like a home, I could not foresee myself, living in it, totally, and when Karolina left surprisingly, I found Russia too unbearable, and with time, found myself, residing, in Sweden (and still, in love with Russia).
Sweden meant nothing much to me really, and although, I did become a historical fact (as the History books say), I care not to know this, unless I truly know Anna, what ever did happen, to Karolina (its as if, everything I have done since, pales, to truly knowing, what actually did happen really, to Karolina).
So why all this Anna, why write all this to you perhaps, a stranger in all, to all this, other than knowing, Russia perhaps, as I once did too. Well first off, I must mention that, I was Louis Pasteur in Sweden (while the books falsely claim though, he was French). Having said that Anna, I will be bold and say, that I did know Karolina, in one way truly, her eyes, and that too, her eyes shone with such great splendour, that I always told myself since her departure, that should I see her again, I would very much know her, by her eyes. As Louis Pasteur though Anna, and based too, in Uppsala, I did mindlessly discover one thing, while thinking aimlessly about Karolina, Anna: 'Sonic Boom' (which the French, turned into, the Concorde). But still to this day, nothing truly enthralls me perhaps, as having looked deeply into, Karolinas eyes, and nothing shocks me really, as probably never truly knowing, where she did escape too.
Yet still, all this might sound perturbing perhaps, but to make it really so, would be to say, that those eyes of Karolinas, ever so memorable, could very well, have been yours.
Spasibo Anna
Carl
