Today I’ll tell to those who’ll hear, this April Fourth of my Twenty-Fifth year, of the man I am, the writer you know, of his long delay and success to grow!
With sorrowful heart I left the city to venture to lands neither fair nor pretty, not knowing in my heart what lay in store, what feat to perform what threats to forestall. Off I began with heavy heart and iron will, to find what path I should take, what glory to fulfil.
But Fate had in mind harsh trials of woe before my days of pomp and show. Splendour would come at last but first would come the harsh abyss of lonely days in wilderness. Stout-heart was not enough nor force of might and, I, punished more with sleepless night. What misadventure the task seemed to be, what fatal forces seemed to challenge me. With lack of friends I made my way through stoney streets and unhappy day. No remedy could mend my woe but drifting back to home and fro. I suffered much at my own hand to make this journey from land to land, and in despair my sorrow spoke a voice of woe not unprovoked:
“What mistake this was to cast aside all that I held before in pride! Leaving nothing for this disdainful ride, of happy days which I now slide, to gloomy days which don’t recover and each new day is like another. May something here come greet me well and soothe of this enduring Hell!”
With that I strode on lamp lit streets to face whate’er the city greets. In my steps abreast I did by chance befriend a girl who was a guest, and friend of who I had been friends. What new charm and hope had come to me what added pride and dignity that there was someone to unstich my woe and add relief to my agro’. I rarely slept thenceforth at my resort, retiring instead as her consort, which then I became a new resident and made my life with my confident.
Sleep lifted from my eyes at dawn as the sun itself loomed over lawn. Meantime, however, within the walls, of my true resort, trouble was making of my glad report…
[here ends part the first]