I wish I could foresee it,
and how it would come to pass.
Though it is hidden from me.
Yet with lust I will expect.
And my Shadow I will not reject.
Mortality charges its pay,
You were right to leave,
in disgrace, in solitude: I stay.
Veiled, I walk.
Between the dying forest of my days.
My suitors' abandonment;
I did not forsook.
Forthwith I must go,
till you visit my grave.
0 comentários:
Post a Comment