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To read only children's books,
To cherish only children's thoughts.
All grown-up things to disperse far away,
And to rise from a deep sorrow.
I am mortally tired of life,
I accept nothing of it,
But I love my poor earth,
Because I’ve seen no other.
I swung myself in a far-off garden
On the simple wooden swing,
Remembering tall dark fir trees
In an obscure delirium.
1908
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| This translation is hosted with different licensing information than from the original text. The translation status applies to this edition. |
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This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1923.
The author died in 1938, so this work is also in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 70 years or less. This work may also be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
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See also
A. S. Kilne's translation
