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A Wish.
135
A WISH.
III. 38.
Slowly my days are dragging
And in my faded heart each moment doubles
All the sorrows of hopeless love
And heavy craze upsets me.
But I am silent. Heard not is my murmur.
Tears I shed … they are my consolation;
My soul in sorrow steeped
Finds enjoyment bitter in them.
О flee, life's dream, thee not regret I!
In darkness vanish, empty vision!
Dear to me is of love my pain,
Let me die, but let me die still loving!
1816.
