You,
who fill everything with joy and youth,
and sees ghosts in the night of reflected light,
and hears the perfumed song of the blue,
get away from me.
Don't stay to look at
the dead boughs of the rosebush,
which wither away without blossoming,
look at the landscape of love
which is the reason to dream and to love...
I,
who have already fought against all wickedness,
have my hands so dismissed from tightening
that I can't even hold you,
get away from me.
In your life I will be the best
of the mist of yesterday
when you come to forget me,
like how the best verse is the one
which we cannot remember.