It's Very Hard, Feeling That

How Unbearable At Times Are People Who Are Happy, People For Whom Everything Works Out.

He Is No Longer A City Dweller Who Has Even Once In His Life Caught A Ruff Or Seen How, On Clear And Cool Autumn Days, Flocks Of Migrating Thrushes Drift Over A Village. Until His Death He Will Be Drawn To Freedom.

From Here, Far Away, People Seem Very Good, And That Is Natural, For In Going Away Into The Country We Are Not Hiding From People But From Our Vanity, Which In Town Among People Is Unjust And Active Beyond Measure.

My Mistress Has Come Home; At Last I've Seen Her. Now I'm Ready To Die.

That Can Not Possibly Be, Because It Could Never Possibly Be.