Chapter 4 dusk

The sound of horseshoes, lonely and melancholy from far to near, scattered on the silent street like small white flowers.I stand still.An old black carriage, empty, walked past me slowly.Doubt is carrying the dusk, casting its dark shadow along the way, and then disappearing from near to far. The streets are getting more desolate.The twilight droops and closes, softly, as if falling from the silver-gray wings, some laziness falls on my heart.I shrugged proudly, and let out a long and strange sigh at my feet. A row of neat palace walls stood long.Many times, I asked it with my eyes, and it answered me with questions: ── Hunter at dusk, what are you looking for?

The wild beast is looking for the sword of the strong man, the beautiful bird is looking for the cage, and the youthful heart is looking for the poisonous eyes.And me? I have had joys tinged with sentimentality yellow, that floated into my dreams like a March night breeze, and drifted away again.I woke up and saw the first dew of pure love fall silently to the ground.I had lonely hours again, under dark windows, by the fireside of long nights, when I closed the door and they still fled.Can I forget melancholy as easily as I forget joy? The pavilion on the top of the hill is rounder because of the lowering of the dark sky, and it rises higher out of the verdant forest, from which I get the melancholy of looking up.In the distant past, when I had a kind and quiet companion by my side, wandering at the foot of the mountain, I made an appointment inadvertently: choose a sunny morning to climb to the top of the mountain.But then it was inadvertently discarded.This silent street has become more and more desolate since there are no more gentle footsteps, but I, melancholy and resentful, let the pavilion hide the undiscovered happiness forever, and dare not climb the place of my sweet imagination alone. The lingering road.

Early Summer of 1933