Two Poems by Yevtushenko Pt.2

There's something I often notice,
and someone apparently gloats over this,
that I'm rather scatter-brained,
and untidy in my ways of living.
Among the, in appearance, harmless
half-desires
and half-feelings,
my pinching worry is:
I do all right?
What if I don't pull through?
I am disturbed by all the waste of meetings
that nourish neither heart nor mind,
by the sloth,
not the festive spirit,
that has taken lodging in my house;
by my mistrust for many books,
and the warring strains in all my moods,
and the far too suspect
non-enthusiasm for myself...

I'll break with all I've lived with up to now,
forget my various mishaps,
with arms spread out
fall down
on the warm
and steamy earth.
Oh those who are my generation!
We're not the threshold, just a step.
We're but the preface to a preface,
a prologue to a newer prologue!