Don't cry, I'm sorry to have deceived you so much, but that's how life is.
Because you took advantage of my disadvantage.
Our best yesterdays are now foul piles of crumpled names.
Do those clowns really believe what they teach?
All my life I have been a poor go-to-sleeper. No matter how great my weariness, the wrench of parting with consciousness is unspeakably repulsive to me.
If I correctly understand the sense of this succinct observation, our poet suggests here that human life is but a series of footnotes to a vast obscure unfinished masterpiece.