* * *

It’s time, my friend: it’s time! The heart wants rest —
the days slip by, the hours take away
fragments of our life: and you and I
plan how to live and, — just like that — we die.
No happiness on earth, yet there’s freedom, peace.
I’ve long dreamt of an enviable fate —
I’ve long thought, a weary slave, to fly
to some far place of labour and true joy.