Walking Alone by the Riverbank Seeking Flowers
Dense flowers, a riot of stamens,
make the riverbank terrible,
But I walk on, precariously tottering,
truly afraid of spring,
And bear still the drivings of wine and song,
I endure,
Not yet finished off—this white-haired old man.
make the riverbank terrible,
But I walk on, precariously tottering,
truly afraid of spring,
And bear still the drivings of wine and song,
I endure,
Not yet finished off—this white-haired old man.
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