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And one asks oneself – “where are one's dreams?”And one shakes his head “how rapidly the years fly by”.
And again one oneself “Where have you buried your best days ?”
Some more years will pass, after them will come gloomy solitude. then will come old age trembling on its crutch, and after it - desolation.
Your fantastie will grow pale, your dreams will fade and die.for all that you have lost, there has been nothing but dreams !