Thou art no longer fortunate:
thine is now a sad soul - but just as heretofore!
And weep, weep, my surly fellow -
in the dreary mimicry of a sultry day.
Hot, unforgiving, and uncaring.
I entreat thee, now do!
For I am now in the cradle of a master:
a disguise that lasts forever;
so long as it should go;
so long as it should probably be.
Bloom in thy cries, you fool,
swell in thy sleep, you creep,
yet forget me, release me,
and the torturous being you used to be
repel everything your soul has seen!
I am to mount a journey;
and shan't let this pureness be stained by thee.