One thought keeps going round my head:
The thought of dying in my bed!
Slowly withering like some overblown
Flower the greenfly gnaws and makes his own;
Wasting away like an old candlestick
In a deserted room, grown pale and sick.

translated by George Szirtes

Sándor Petőfi

Sándor Petőfi

Hungarian poet, revolutionist

1 January 1823 — 31 July 1849

One thought (poem)

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Time of publication: September 7, 2011

Length: 230 characters

Favorited by: 0 member

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