regretting leaving my hermitage
for collegium maius, i do not curse
you but the drowsiness of the lecture
hall and our confused impressions.
after all, who could have foreseen
that my desires would crash against
your aversions, or that your great lust
for adventure would collide with my
austerity in life. the naivety of a young
faith in idealized feeling rarely obeys
common sense.
hidden pilcrow 