Constantin si Elena Page #2

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What can we do about it?!

At least it helps us stay in good shape.

Yes, right.

Light of Light, True God of True God Begotten,

not made, of one essence with the Father

Holy God... Holy Immortal...

Blessed are those with humble hearts...

For theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.

Blessed are those who mourn...

For they shall be comforted.

Blessed be those who follow God's words...

I'll put some wire here, soft wire...

I make little squares...

And you put this on the pot...

So you can wring out the water

when you make the green cheese.

- See?

- I see. Bravo!

Well, your graybeard, he knows stuff,

but he's too weak now.

- He's just a little too old.

- Do you need strength for this?!

- You need some talent...

- Yes, some caviar up here...

But my head is old and

rotten, of almost no use.

Right...

My head, my poor, poor head...

It's good the way it is.

- I'll take this piece out first.

- I don't think you can do it.

- You don't?

- I don't.

You don't, but I do!

- But where did you get this?

- From the old washing machine.

I detached it from there.

Look what I found here!

Oh, you found your notebook!

I found my notebook.

I've been looking for it...

Where was it?

There's a poem, not that old.

It's since we were retired...

- Do you want to hear it?

- Yes, absolutely.

"Life is Beautiful"

When you are young, you feel

That the world is oh, so clear.

The years slip by with no delay

And you get older every day.

When you're young you got it all:

Love, life, power: it's a ball!

You're not aware that every thing

Hangs from the thinnest string.

You are now young, handsome and strong,

You know how to get along.

Later you see that all this mess

Will leave you with nothingness:

Your hands won't listen,

your eyes won't see,

You'll have a bitter question:

"Am I living pointlessly?"

It's summertime, birds are singing

And the crickets play with dew,

One ear seems deaf to you.

Sometimes both, all two.

So true...

Children grow up around you

Each one grows clever, too.

They have homes and good jobs start,

Then their children steal your heart.

Your grandchildren are precious bloom

That inherit life and overcome doom.

Think the world of them, my friend,

From now till the ruthless end.

Even though you have no choice

And get weary of their tinkling voice,

Follow your thoughts, old and wise,

For they are your next lives.

And after all, my friend, if all of this

Doesn't bring a perfect bliss,

You can say out loud, it's true:

"Be it as it may, life is beautiful!"

Bravo!

You see?

- It's true...

- This is not that old...

It's true, it is!

- We live on through our children.

- We do, don't we?

You described me well in your poem,

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