Even if I lived, not loving,
Suppose I break the curse, –
All You stir up my soul,
Wherever I met you!
ABOUT, the long arm!
In this dim habitation
its charm
make you, even in separation!
And in my lonely
house, empty and cold,
The dream, never free,
I dream abandoned house.
The old dream of minutes,
The old dream of the year…
It is seen, it really forever
Duma thee locked!
Whoever was calling - I do not want
On the bustling tenderness
I exchange hopelessness -
AND, confined, silent.
8 October 1915
