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Bir çeviri sorunu bildirin
Neuroses are red,
Melancholia's blue.
I'm schizophrenic,
What are you?
Now that day wearies me,
My yearning desire
Will receive more kindly,
Like a tired child, the starry night.
Hands, leave off your deeds,
Mind, forget all thoughts;
All of my forces
Yearn only to sink into sleep.
And my soul, unguarded,
Would soar on widespread wings,
To live in night's magical sphere
More profoundly, more variously.
-- Hermann Hesse, "Going to Sleep"
O
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