When my dreams are beyond the last days
Find you again for the haze of mist,
I cry sweetly, as the first Jew
At the turn of the Promised Land.
Do not pity me children's games, not pity me silent dreams,
You so sweet and painful perturbed
In those days, I learned as a first love
According revolt feeling of restlessness,
According to the hand grip, Eye on otblesku,
Accompanied by the sighs, the laughter,
According to murmur simple insignificant speeches,
Only we sounded echoes of passion.
A B.
May 1919
