You lean your head to backwards,
Because of you're a proud man and liar.
What a nice and merry companion
Was brought to me by this february!
Followed by the beggars,
And blowing slowly the smoke out,
As the grand foreigners
We are going through the native town.
What tender hands caressed you, beauty,
Your face, eyelashes, dear?
When, how was kissed and by whom?
How many girls, I'm not feared?
My ardent, hungry spirit yet
Overcame this dream.
I see in you the boy of deity,
Who is only 10 years.
Let's stop our movement at the river,
Which's rinsing beads of lanterns,
I'll follow you to square this,
Where reigned the adolescent.
Let whistle out your boy's pain
And hold your heart within...
My cold-blooded and my crazy,
Me freedman - please, forgive!
18 feb 1916