I was going - and after walking for me
Some violent people.
Their hair stood under the moon,
And in horror, with a torn soul
gnashed their teeth, hit in the chest,
And pass them away rattle.
I was - and behind me are punished
tired, thoughtful people.
They have forgotten the horror of the fatal.
We inhaled the scent of the night quietly
their sunken, exhausted breasts,
And their lifeless hands intertwined.
Before me was fiery pillar.
And I thought the steps of countless crowds.
And gnashing their, and the rustle of their lazy
I beheld, vast and happy.
1 January 1902
