The echo of the young days
Inwardly awake, breathless,
And in the glare of the morning rays,
It seemed, The night was silent.
That dream came predawn,
and the spirit, on the verge of awakening,
I plucked up, She cried out and found
It has long been flashed vision.
It was a ruthless rush
Immortals thoughts no doubt.
And he drove off, awakened
Crowds forgotten revelations.
That brought the infinity
Over the fallen spirit of hurricanes.
That took forever-young
In neozarennye fogs.
29 July 1900
