No matter how young I feel , my grey hair testifies to my age , and my memory - which has retained the traces of numerous events - promptly reminds me that I am an eye - witness of two epochs . Many a path has been tra versed , much has been left behind , like the markets on a caravan route , much has been experienced and accom plished . But I sometimes still think that I am just getting on my feet , and that much still needs to be done to reach the desired summit . Such , apparently , is human nature , and each day of our splendid restless life always brings along something new , filling man with fresh vigour to carry on and on . Man's hopes and aspirations are diverse . Once , I would have considered it a great happiness to own a horse and a small snug cart - drawn tent to keep out of the cold and wind . There , I imagined , I could play host to my friends , conversing over bowls of tea , or mount my horse and gallop out to Mari , a hundred kilometres away . Nowadays I travel very much , but even a plane , to say nothing of car and horse , no longer seems fast enough , for values change with time . Today I find myself a wel come guest in many distant parts of the Soviet Union and in picturesque India , distant Africa and many other countries , where I am welcomed as an old friend . This fills me with a desire to speak not only with my neigh bour but to commune with all the writers of the world
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