I Have Gone To The Forest.

Today Riches And Honours Have Been Lavished On Me, But One Gift Has Been Lacking, The Most Important One Of All, The Only One That Matters, The Gift Of Youth.

But Now It Was Spring Again, And Spring Was Almost Unbearable For Sensitive Hearts. It Drove Creation To Its Utmost Limits, It Wafted Its Spice-laden Breath Even Into The Nostrils Of The Innocent.

You Are Welcome To Your Intellectual Pastimes And Books And Art And Newspapers; Welcome, Too, To Your Bars And Your Whisky That Only Makes Me Ill. Here Am I In The Forest, Quite Content.

What Will I Do When I Can No Longer Dig?

The Heavy Red Roses Smoldering In The Foggy Morning, Blood-colored And Uninhibited, Made Me Greedy, And Tempted Me Powerfully To Steal One--i Asked The Prices Merely So I Could Come As Near Them As Possible.