And the voice of man was not dear to me,
But the voice of the wind I could understand.
But best of all the silver willow.
And obligingly, it lived
With me all my life; it’s weeping branches
Fanned my insomnia with dreams.
And strange!–I outlived it.
There the stump stands; with strange voices
Other willows are conversing
Under our, under those skies.
And I am silent…As if a brother had died.
It’s northerly here, and fall of this year,I chose to be my girl-friend.I’ve carried here the memory sureOf my last rejecting a date –The flame, so cold, so easy and pure,Of my overcoming the fate.
Let lips with lips be joined in silent rage,And hearts be burst asunder with the love.And friendship, too, is powerless plot,And so years of bliss with noble tends,When your heart is free and known not,The slow languor of the earthy sense.And they who strive to reach this edge are mad,But they who reached are shocked…
I love a flower and so charming lassIn aromatic springs that never pass.I love a whisper, very gentle and long,And, in full silence, a despondent song.
That’s because I today made him crazyWith the sour wine of regret.Can’t forget! He got out, astound,With his mouth distorted by pain…I, not touching the railing, ran down,I was running to him till the lane.Fully choked, I cried, ‘That’s a joke —All that was. You get out, I’ll die.’And he smiled very calmly, like stroke:‘It…
While her man’s words are clearly recalled,She will not stop her lamentations loud.It will be so, until the snow puffWill give a mercy to the pined and tired.Forgetfulness of suffering and love —Though paid by life — what more could be desired?
while a restless voice kept harrying his woman:‘It’s not too late, you can still look backat the red towers of your native Sodom,the square where once you sang, the spinning-shed,at the empty windows set in the tall housewhere sons and daughters blessed your marriage-bed.’A single glance: a sudden dart of painstitching her eyes before she…
