Mikhail Sholokhov - And Quiet Flows the Don (1928)

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Sometimes life played with him, sometimes it hung on him like a stone round the neck of a drowned man.

Mikhail Sholokhov

When swept out of its normal channel, life scatters into innumerable streams. It is difficult to foresee which it will take in its treacherous and winding course. Where today it flows in shallows, like a rivulet over sandbanks, so shallow that the shoals are visible, tomorrow it will flow richly and fully.

Mikhail Sholokhov

And over the village slipped the days, passing into the nights; the weeks flowed by, the months crept on, the wind howled, and, glassified with an autumnal, translucent, greenish-azure, the Don flowed tranquilly down to the sea.

Mikhail Sholokhov

The grass grows over the graves, time overgrows the pain. The wind blew away the traces of those who had departed; time blows away the bloody pain and the memory of those who did not live to see their dear ones again—and will not live, for brief is human life, and not for long is any of us granted to tread the grass.

Mikhail Sholokhov

'The Don! The Don! The gentle Don! Our father; giver of our food! Hurrah!'

Mikhail Sholokhov