oh to be a young man in nothing but thin garnets and some cloak in the dark winter forest with such white snow and the snowflakes in hair and to be freezing and then barely reach some unknown doors some great doors or perhaps even the ones with a garden and knock against them and then darkness would be found and then fever from the cold would come and to be awoken in rich bedroom spread on furs and with the winter sun shining on the high window and to see another young man to be in the room reading some golden-lettered book dressed all in velvets and furs with his hair combed nicely and looking up from the book at the sick one with some worry abd smile and asking how the latter fares for it was old night and the young man was soaked in snow what he was doing in such deep forests from the beginning in the night with no horse or company or
well
