SREAM-SONATA

My tongue - true -, now only dadogj-gyagogja loud Jericho trumpet would call from the hearts of the hearts of the wicked-galad people to the spark-man! Conscious anxiety in my soul took root beneath me, When Twilight visited me with her haunting, murderous shadows.

If my black, dead shadow, like a murderer-friend, had followed me, silently clinging to the cheap fabric of my dress, I would have run on, trembling, and fled. Owls hooted at the ghostly hour, so I answered them: Protect me, if you can, sleepless birds of the night! Help me - I who know not this nightmare, bohemian night of Pest. In barely-lit alley-corners cosmum-cooked cockatiels were beaten by brutal-unruly financial pimps. Then I was perhaps the most cowardly in my credulity!

It was then that the ghost of my abject humility was born in me, and it has not abated since. Then was the murderous night, my foolish, childish Yorick, cloaked in hornets! I wove my knight-errant to shards by the cheap light of the broken moon. I have cried out, I have cried home: rascals, you frightful souls! Die, if you still have enough soufflé left in you, the shame and boldness of a face-though I myself have heard my shivering, shuddering porcelain teeth on the subway.

Out of a mysterious foggy gloom a shipwrecked man staggered towards me in his petulant drunkenness. With a complaining tirade on his lips He fell silently into the gloomy streets. Now my fate has pushed me into the gaping night. I felt: unworthy self-reproach would seize me, driving me to a nervous breakdown, if I could not find Someone pure of soul, whom Being would soon cast out of itself

I still had some reserve-strength To go on in the rush of life: on my weeping face the hooting lantern-eyed bird of night Stared. My tongue would have roared even while my heart trembled!