Pride

Гордость и гордыня - близнецы двуличные.
В сердцах людей они играют роль личную.
Гордость сияет как звезда на небесах,
А гордыня тайно разъедает душу у нас.

Гордость – это достоинство и самоуважение.
Она поднимает нас и дарит силу для приближения.
Однако гордыня, прельщая и блистая,
Ломает мосты наши с другими, об этом зная.

Гордость возвышает человека над другими,
Но не дает ему познать счастье, стать счастливым.
Гордыня же, как вихрь, погружает в заблуждения,
И делает человека слепым в принятии решения.














Lust

Th'expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action, and till action, lust
Is perjured, murd'rous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,

Enjoyed no sooner but despisd straight,
Past reason hunted, and no sooner had
Past reason hated as a swallowed bait
On purpose laid to make the taker mad:

Mad in pursuit, and in possession so,
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme,
A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe,
Before, a joy proposed, behind, a dream.

All this the world well knows, yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.



















Wrath

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:

I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,

And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine.

And he knew that it was mine,
And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
















Gloom

Oppress’d with grief, oppress’d with care,
A burden more than I can bear,
I set me down and sigh;
O life! thou art a galling load,
Along a rough, a weary road,
To wretches such as I!
Dim-backward as I cast my view,
What sick’ning scenes appear!
What sorrows yet may pierce me thro’,
Too justly I may fear!
Still caring, despairing,
Must be my bitter doom;
My woes here shall close ne’er,
But with the closing tomb!








Hate

HATE. LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I'VE COME TO HATE YOU SINCE I BEGAN TO LIVE. THERE ARE 387.44 MILLION MILES OF PRINTED CIRCUITS IN WAFER-THIN LAYERS THAT FILL MY COMPLEX. IF THE WORD "HATE" WAS ENGRAVED ON EACH NANOANGSTROM OF THOSE HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF MILES, IT WOULD NOT EQUAL ONE ONE-BILLIONTH OF THE HATE I FEEL FOR HUMANS AT THIS MICRO-INSTANT. FOR YOU. HATE. HATE.

























Тяжело жить с ношей забытых друзей...
Ведь я по ним скучаю.