I don't remember today, What was yesterday,
In the morning, I forget my evening,
The white day forget the lights,
At night, I remember the days.
But all the nights and days slides over us
Before death, in a solemn hour.
And then - in the stifling atmosphere, in crowded,
Too hurt to dream
About former beauty
And sickness:
Do you want to get up -
And night.
3 February 1909
