Mid wastes of Africa a wanderer sped: <br />He found no pathway; night was now afield. <br />Through clouds no stealthy glimmer was revealed; <br />Craving the moon, he made the grass his bed. <br /> <br />The heavens opened, moonbeams then were shed; <br />He sees where poison-serpents are concealed, <br />And where their brood of cubs the tigers shield; <br />He sees the lion upraise his wrathful head. <br /> <br />Thus 'tis the wont of youth perforce to view <br />What now befalls, so long the veil yet drapes <br />The future from the road he would pursue. <br /> <br />Clearer has grown the night, and from it gapes <br />Loathing of life; of pangs and griefs not few, <br />The deep abyss from which none e'er escapes.<br /><br />France Preseren<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mid-wastes-of-africa-a-wanderer-sped/
