When St. oblivion
Around the motionless silence, –
You look in quiet anguish,
River reeds apart.
I am the grass green
Love and sleepy days.
Not whether they are my secret,
My golden lights?
You look quiet, strict,
The eye was held dream.
I chose a different path, –
Go, - and songs do not…
It'll soon be the evening will come closer,
And the night - to meet fate:
Then my way capsize,
And I'll get back to you.
May 1902
