BUT. WITH. F.
Under the old age, forgetting holy,
I live dry attentively.
Once upon a time - there - we were two,
But in the dream - not reality.
I looked at the pale autumn,
About something whispers in my memory…
But can you believe the shadows,
Flashed in the youthful dream?
It was all or it seemed?
In the hours of oblivion old wounds
Sometimes I long dreamed of
Dream, pushed into the fog.
But I do not believe a foolish fairy tales,
Sick, under the yoke of gray.
Let the other would find doors,
What I can not live.
29 September 1902
