Like undistinguishable horses,
Gleam by my ever-painful days,
As if fade all the living roses,
And die all living nightingales.
But she is, too, upset and saddened,
My single governess my love,
And under her skin of a satin,
The poisoned blood is now moved.
And if I stand the world I live in,
That is because I have a dream:
Both of us, like two blind children,
Will go to the highlands rims,
Where clouds are so white and close,
Where only goats run the dales,
To seek forever faded roses,
And hark to lifeless nightingales.
