The pleasures if wasting dilute,
In one to run ebb tide waves,
What it remained to learn and to love:
They are dreams and chimeras that fall.
Each delight of long ago is bad,
And spots the homesickness without pardon,
Consumes the emotion memory,
Therefore little new development now has.
Decoy of certainty that I am,
Cries out for the doubt any
That minors suffering if will be able.
In the same way that the soul died,
This meets my vile body
Without the forces that were more than a thousand.
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