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Poetry, Stalker and the meaning of life

"So summer is gone,

leaving no epitaph.

It's still warm in the sun,

only that's not enough.

All that true could have come,

like a five-fingered fluff.

Folded into my palm,

only that's not enough.

No evil was slighted

in the good aftermath.

World was festively lighted,

only that's not enough.

Life forever was tucking,

caring, making me laugh.

I was really lucky,

only that's not enough.

No leaves ever seared,

no limbs broken rough.

Day, like glass, washed all clear,

only that's not enough..."

/1967 Arseny Tarkovsky

Let everything that’s been planned come true. Let them believe. And let them laugh at their passions.

Because what they call passion actually is not some emotional energy, but just the friction between their souls and the outside world. And most important, let them believe in themselves.

Let them be helpless like children because weakness is a great thing, and strength is nothing. When a man is just born, he is weak and fragile.

When he dies, he is hard and insensitive. When a tree is growing, it’s tender and fragile, but when it’s dry and hard, it dies.

Hardness and strength are death’s companions. Pliancy and weakness are expressions of the freshness of being. Because what has hardened will never win.

And maybe the meaning of life is just living and enjoying life. With good and the bad, and the consequences and choices. Behind all the limitations, fears of failure or success, failures, unfulfilled desires, obsessions, targets. Such a beautiful gift.

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