My dear friend, and I have tried to find <br />My paradise in serfdom of a soul, <br />I liked them all – the odd ways of a mind <br />Without hopes, or memories, or goals. <br /> <br />Promptly to glide along the brooks of lines, <br />To enter into straits of chapters, slow, <br />To watch a foam on the flows’ spines, <br />And listen to a tide’s increasing roar! <br /> <br />But at the night, oh, how fast they gloom – <br />The shades behind the images and drawers, <br />The pendulum, immobile, like the moon, <br />That o’er the glimm’ring quagmire hovers!<br /><br />Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/reader-of-books/
