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Yesterday when I was young
the taste of life was sweet as rain upon my tongue.
I teased at life as if it were a foolish g ame,
the way the evening breeze may tease a candle fl ame.
The thousand dreams I dreamed, the splendid things I planned
I always built alas on weak and shifting sand.
I lived by night and shunned the naked light of the day
and only now I see how the years ran away.