A poem by Alexander Pushkin – Pouchkine, Pooshkin (1799-1837), in English translation

He’s blessed, who lives in peace, that’s distant

From the ignorant fobs with calls,

Who can provide his every instance

With dreams, or labors, or recalls;

To whom the fate sends friends in score,

Who hides himself by Savior’s back

From bashful fools, which lull and bore,

And from the impudent ones, which wake.

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Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.

Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.

 

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