A short poem to Lindsay Lohan from the Media

"Why"
I am so sad because I worship you,
I know: that your flourishing youth
Will not be spared by the gossip's persecution.
For every sunny day or bit of sweet illusion
You'll pay the fate with tears and your pine.
I'm sad... 'cause you're so gay and fine.

- Mikhail Lermontov

Even crazier than the dream I had this morning

The Dream

The glen of Daghestan, at noon, was hot and gleaming;
I lay on sand with lead sent to my heart,
My deadly wound was deep and easily steaming;
And, drop by drop, was oozing out blood.

I lay on sand of this small glen, alone;
High cliffs surrounded my motionless head.
The sun was scorching their yellow stone
And scorching me; but I was sleeping, dead.

And I daydreamed of homeland and evening:
A feast was glittering with celebrating lights;
Young women, garlanded with flowers, were sitting,
With gaily talk about me all night.

But one of them sat there, sunk in musing,
Not taking part in this light-hearted talk,
Her youthful soul, the world of real loosing,
In jungles of dreams sorrowfully walked.

She dreamed of Daghestan: the glen was hot and gleaming --
And someone, familiar, lay on the ground, dead,
The fatefull wound was black and easily steaming,
And cooling blood was spreading on the sand.


- Mikhail Lermontov