We've yet to climb,
Not once fell, not just charter,
Again, breathe and flare
Accomplishment of forgotten herbs.
Having ascended to the zeal of the coming of arable land,
Crept to the melting gave,
I sensed the spirit of play yesterday,
It has long been lost in the dust.
It is not the time to put a tower,
Another beauty is not here,
But we will arrange and measure
Spring burning all.
The sunsets over green,
As the building of a new skeleton,
Yesterday unforgotten years.
Light transitions ladders
fires burn, flow works.
There are just waiting for the last messenger
About climbing stars…
2 May 1903
Field of Petersburg