I'm tired. Death is close. to the threshold
Creeps and creeps, as a beast,
And gradually dissolves
My unclosed door.
It will overtake me at night,
Will give me a sign of awakening,
And me to introduce personally
Her blanching prizrák.
Then part with this world,
Maybe, I come back again, –
And in a new body with the spirit sirym
I go for a flutter aimlessly:
Again the experience of loss, –
And anger tears shed
above all, that is dear and holy,
And all, that I want to love…
For what? No one will answer.
Peace of mind - to burn incense to the gods…
But this world is the soul of a poet
No longer can bear!
29 November 1899
