Tis time, my friend, tis time! For rest the heart is aching; Days follow days in flight, and every day is taking Fragments of being, while together you and I Make plans to live. Look, all is dust, and we shall die.
ATTRIBUTION:
Alexander Pushkin (17991837), Russian poet. Tis time, my friend, l. 1-5 (1834), trans. by C.M. Bowra (1943).