I was waiting under the windows in the shade,
Ready to die and laugh.
They went there - some of them -
Be in love, dream and kiss.
Hand gripping a thin knife.
In rags, beggar, I was miserable.
I dreamed about happiness and about the lies,
about white, virgin mermaids.
AND, drohnuv, I ran shadow,
I hurry stray passerby.
There vaguely nascent day,
With the last similar and dissimilar.
And here they are - alone - alone…
he whispers, shakes, kissing hands…
And I stood in my shadow,
Crushed secret gray boredom.
September 1902
