Trafika Europe 2 - Polish Nocturne
VII. Drunken sonnet
Rather it is passion which follows me down; ‒ true, I didn’t frolic, for I was drunk and dizzy, the pint’s handle propped me night and morn, then the horizon darkened before me & I would have set out, Ulysses to Ithaca, if I didn’t fear my tired legs at night would give out under me: at last I crawl away… hating: what a horrid stinking glop slumps along? Sloth: are you human? I don’t ask anymore if it’s an animal, this almost-human sin! As if it’s just snowed, that’s how that night fell; I tripped, and a bush set on me. Thus I live: harsh winter pervades even the autumn in me.
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