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    Soon they will leave me - like my acquaintances, my Years! The embittered memories, like moments of yew-flower, May once in a while, if I will, rise again: If I am not enveloped by the amber tendrils of Nothing, like conscious indifference and boredom! I shall stare at broken and cracked highway-arches, if I should honestly look in the mirror. 

    I am neither Adonis, nor in the camp of the first, a victorious strategist, nor a warlord! I could be satisfied with the cheap smell of mashed potatoes and salty slices: "You eat too much anyway!" - The others barked their barbs at me! - And perhaps even in death I might be a slug who dared to make any effort to get to the 

    To the Atlantic shores of immortal love. And if my blood often leaks through the caverns of my holey heart, where was then the self-helpful, blessed face that laughs and laughs at all misery? - Is my eye or my will weary in seeking? In mapping the True? - I know not myself! I cannot compromise with bus pass dictatorships just yet! Whoever has money and faith in the alleys of the years of trying few men, can now, if he improves a little and perhaps even smiles, plough miles around himself with his young feet, 

    If he will, and his health can! I have no desire for the spiteful rages of worlds: I long for the desert islands of Peace! The poorer are daily devoured by life, its cynical asphalt cheek swallows up the sparkling remnants of Existence-what a frivolous thought was it to let out from around your porcelain fingers that vital and auspicious comfort which might have guaranteed our unearthly happiness: the all-embracing Hope!

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