Bertrand russell I

Bertrand russell asks a difficult question. What is the answer?

"Is there any knowledge in the world which is so certain that no reasonable man could doubt it? This question, which at first sight might not seem difficult, is really one of the most difficult that can be asked. When we have realized the obstacles in the way of a straightforward and confident answer, we shall be well launched on the study of philosophy—for philosophy is merely the attempt to answer such ultimate questions, not carelessly and dogmatically, as we do in ordinary life and even in the sciences, but critically, after exploring all that makes such questions puzzling, and after realizing all the vagueness and confusion that underlie our ordinary ideas."

Bertrand russell -  The Problems of Philosophy 

Translation I

R, how did the constant monotony of your forlorn days pass? When your light faded behind the perplexing fabric of sorrow.

Tell me about your confusing adolescence, the innocent seclusion of your hands.

Did you know that beneath the fire of your woe, your tormenting tears, lay the answer to why silver lakes shine?

R, now, with me by your side, dare to let go. Accord with the essence of light.

Learn to fade in the hermetic serene.

At this moment, my R, you are in efflorescence.

Nostalgia I

The asthenic winter sun shone on the snow crested path that I walked on once a week to get to the mountain. As I walked among the trees, the sleeping giant started to dominate the December sky. The golden field of wild dried grass, randomly uniform, luminous and redolent, reminded me of her skin. Candescent while nature was at It's seasonal halt. As I approached the mountain, the single entity that spawned lucidity for me at those days, frosty swelled rocks became more frequent.

As I climbed the small hill, the frigid city became more visible, just to fade into the nothingness I wanted it to become with a simple turn of my head. patches of green grass amongst the grey rocky background were soothing to the eyes that had teared up in the face of the wild winter wind which froze anything that defied it. As the sun that sat around 5:30 in the afternoon on those days was dying off, the eastern paper moon had gained flight, and I reached the apex.

Mountain after mount, stones frozen in time and space faded into the afternoon sky. My bones ached and my face was numb but I couldn't care. The measly I had reached the mountain top to see the sight of the grand peaks afar, to be reminded of just how trivial he truly was.