In bygone days when life`s array - The sweet song of the nightingale And maidens` eyes, the rustling woods - Still left a fresh impression on me, When loftiness of feeling, And freedom, glory, love Artistic inspiration So deeply stirred my blood, My times of hope were cast in shade And pleasure dimmed by longing, For it was then an evil genius Began to pay me secret visits. Our meetings were quite dolorous: His smile, his glance mysterious, His venom-filled and caustic sermons Poured frozen poison in my soul. With endless slandering remarks He tempted Providence; He claimed that beauty`s but a dream; Felt scorn for inspiration; He had no faith in love or freedom; He looked on life with ridicule- And in the whole of nature He did not wish to praise a single thing.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
The script ran 0.001 seconds.
