The red sun was pasted in the sky like a wafer.

A little man said to the Universe. "Sir! I exist." The Universe replied: "That's fine." Just don't think it creates any obligation on my part.

When the prophet, a complacent fat man, Arrived at the mountain-top He cried: "Woe to my knowledge! I intended to see good white lands And bad black lands— But the scene is grey.

When the suicide arrived at the sky, the people there asked him: "Why?" He replied: "Because no one admired me.

Tell her this And more,— That the king of the seas Weeps too, old, helpless man. The bustling fates Heap his hands with corpses Until he stands like a child With surplus of toys.

Let me into the darkness again.

Over the river a golden ray of sun came through the hosts of leaden rain clouds.