"Naj vso svojo silo
Burja na-me žene,
Vendar vsako pomlad
Veje so zelene;
Ali črv pod kožo,
Ki redi se z mano,
On za smrt gotovo
Vsekal mi je rano."
Tak v večernem mraku
Mehka lipa plaka,
Trdi hrast se smeje,
I nje pada čaka.
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