Please be polite and considerate if leaving comments.

I'm not on Steam to 'collect' friends. Am very reticent on friending, and especially random strangers.
But if we seem to share same interests in (smallish) kind and gentle games, and especially if you're another *newbie* older person (60+ or thereabouts), then leave me a couple of lines in my comment field, and I'll consider it
Come on now, surely there must be other newish old people here on Steam who haven't been gaming since the 1980'ies or whatever?

Please don't leave random hi's or season's greetings or such. Or text art . That's really not my cup of tea, at all - and will be deleted, if any.
Thanks !

I love reading other people's thoughtful reviews, so decided to make mine open for public view too.
Such as they are...
Here's hoping my tuppence-worth of opinion may be helpful to some

"Ja visst gär det ont när knoppar brister", Karin Boye
Translated into English by David McDuff in "Karin Boye: Complete Poems"

YES, OF COURSE IT HURTS
Yes, of course it hurts when buds are breaking.
Why else would the springtime falter?
Why would all our ardent longing
bind itself in frozen, bitter pallor?
After all, the bud was covered all the winter.
What new thing is it that bursts and wears?
Yes, of course it hurts when buds are breaking,
hurts for that which grows
and that which bars.

Yes, it is hard when drops are falling.
Trembling with fear, and heavy hanging,
cleaving to the twig, and swelling, sliding -
weight draws them down, though they go on clinging.
Hard to be uncertain, afraid and divided,
hard to feel the depths attract and call,
yet sit fast and merely tremble -
hard to want to stay
and want to fall.

Then, when things are worst and nothing helps
the tree's buds break as in rejoicing,
then, when no fear holds back any longer,
down in glitter go the twig's drops plunging,
forget that they were frightened by the new,
forget their fear before the flight unfurled -
feel for a second their greatest safety,
rest in that trust
that creates the world.

In original:
JA VISST GÖR DET ONT NÄR KNOPPAR BRISTER

Ja visst gör det ont när knoppar brister.
Varför skulle annars våren tveka?
Varför skulle all vår heta längtan
bindas i det frusna bitterbleka?
Höljet var ju knoppen hela vintern.
Vad är det för nytt, som tär och spränger?
Ja visst gör det ont när knoppar brister,
ont för det som växer
och det som stänger.

Ja nog är det svårt när droppar faller.
Skälvande av ängslan tungt de hänger,
klamrar sig vid kvisten, sväller, glider -
tyngden drar dem neråt, hur de klänger.
Svårt att vara oviss, rädd och delad,
svårt att känna djupet dra och kalla,
ändå sitta kvar och bara darra -
svårt att vilja stanna
och vilja falla.

Då, när det är värst och inget hjälper,
Brister som i jubel trädets knoppar.
Då, när ingen rädsla längre håller,
faller i ett glitter kvistens droppar
glömmer att de skrämdes av det nya
glömmer att de ängslades för färden -
känner en sekund sin största trygghet,
vilar i den tillit
som skapar världen.

------
Ref: https://karinboye.se/verk/dikter/dikter/ja-visst-gor-det-ont.shtml
and
https://karinboye.se/verk/dikter/dikter-mcduff/of-course-it-hurts.shtml

-------------
Previously:
- Alfred, Lord Tennyson :'In Memoriam'.
- Emily Dickinson: 'The saddest noise, the sweetest noise (No 1789)'
- Caitlin Doyle : 'Not it'
- Arild Nyquist : 'The seasons' (In original: 'Årets tider')
- A.A.Milne: 'The snow song' (from the book 'The house at Pooh Corner')