It was New Year's Night. An aged man was standing at a window. He had already passed sixty of the stages leading to it, and he had brought from his journey nothing but errors and remorse.
The days of his youth appeared like dreams before him, and he recalled the serious moment when his father placed him at the entrance of the two roads-one leading to a peaceful, sunny place, covered with flowers, fruits and resounding with soft, sweet songs; the other leading to a deep, dark cave, which was endless.
He looked towards the sky and cried painfully,"O youth, return! O my father, place me once more at the entrance to life, and I'll choose the better way!" But both his father and the days of his youth had passed away.
The clock in the high church tower struck and the sound made him remember his parents' early love for him. They had taught him and prayed to God for his good. But he chose the wrong way. His darkened eyes were full of tears, and with a despairing effort, he burst out a cry: "Come back, my early days! Come back!"
And his youth did return, for all this was only a dream which he had on New Year's Night.
Those who still linger on the entrance of life, hesitating to choose the bright road, remember that when years are passed and your feet stumble on the dark mountains, you will cry bitterly, but in vain: "O youth, return! Oh give me back my early days!"