To read only children's books, treasure
Only childish thoughts, throw
Grown-up things away
And rise from deep sorrows.
I'm tired to death of life,
I accept nothing it can give me,
But I love my poor earth
Because it's the only one I've seen.
In a far-off garden I swung
On a simple wooden swing,
And I remember dark tall firs
In a hazy fever.
trns. by James Greene
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