| In the evening of a grey day
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| A bleak day
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| I strayed into the dim silence
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| Of the hallowed trees
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| Where the fir-trees whisper
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| Of those been, those gone
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| Where the sacred earth still hides
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| All those we once loved
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| «O father, hear these words
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| Your son is not made for this world
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| Faint-hearted and careworn
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| Into this vile life I was hurled
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| In the woods the fiends sigh
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| I swear I heard the demons neigh
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| On the seashore I espy
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| The dreadful void under the tides"
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| Ill-assorted with this life
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| These cares
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| Each moment I am waiting
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| For the worst to come my way
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| Dark berry from my mother’s womb
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| A frail one
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| I was affrighted at my birth
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| Bewildered from the start
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| «O father, hear these words
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| Your son is not made for this world
|
| Faint-hearted and careworn
|
| Into this vile life I was hurled
|
| In the woods the fiends sigh
|
| I swear I heard the demons neigh
|
| On the seashore I espy
|
| The dreadful void under the tides"
|
| Better it would be to stay in the shades
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| In the thicket of the dead, in the groves of death
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| Here I would lie to the end of the days
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| «Hear me now, my hapless son
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| Warn away all yours fears
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| Make good use of your brief days
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| Life may be grim but death is more austere
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| By yourself you sit and wait
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| By yourself you will have time to repent»
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| «In these lowly halls
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| No moon will beam, no sun will shine
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| In these narrow rooms
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| No tears are seen, no laughter heard»
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| At the dawn of a quiet day
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| I strolled from the woods, returned to the hearth
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| And with a restful mind I roamed
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| The dreary shores, the darkling wilds
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| Greeting all the days that befall
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| Taking life as it comes |