And yet from thought of death, my friends, I shrink; I want to live - to suffer and to think, To taste of care and grief and tribulation, Of rapture … - Alexander Pushkin

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And yet from thought of death, my friends, I shrink;
I want to live - to suffer and to think,
To taste of care and grief and tribulation,
Of rapture and of sweet exhilaration;
Be drunk with harmony; touch fancy's strings
And freely weep o'er its imaginings...
And love's last flash, its smile of farewell tender
My sad decline may yet less mournful render.