I drink the tuberose smell and autumn bitter sky,

With them of your betrayals a burning bitter stream.

Drink bitterness of mob and bitterness of night,

Raw bitterness of verse, which sobs, I’m taking in.

A child of atelier, sobriety avoiding,

A steady modest pay – adversary of mine.

Anxiety of wind, a toast to us proposing,

Which would not realize, forever biding time.

Heredity and Death – participants of parties.

And early at the dawn – the tops of trees alight,

As mouse in breadcrumbs – entrusted old anapest,

And Cindy’s taking off ball gown of the night.

The floors are freshly swept and clean the tablecloth.

My verse is calm and light as kissing of a child.

And Cindy flees in cab, if got a happy lot,

But merely on foot, when fortune does not smile.

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