In the evening the still shape appears in the window
She, however, closes the yellowed curtain –
The trickling of the glass beads reminded of our childhood,
At night we found a black moon in the forest
The soft sonata sounds in a mirror’s blueness
Long embraces
Her smile glides over the dying one’s mouth.
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When in the hell of self-created sufferings
No heart was ever so enchanted by lascivious prurienceLike his, and no heart so tormentedBy God – he lifts gaunt hands,Unredeemed, praying to heaven.But, only agonizingly insatiable lust formsHis rutting, feverish prayer, its fervorSurges there through mystical infinities.And not so drunkenly the EvoeOf Dionysus sounds, as if his shoutOf torment forces fulfillment in deadly,Furiously slobbering…
I have once seen passing-by
That seemed akin to me deeply and clandestinely,So god-sent –And passed and disappeared.I have once seen passing-byA face rich with pain,That impressed me,As if I had recognized one,Who dreaming I once called belovedIn an existence that long ago disappeared.
Summer
the cuckoos withhold their misery.The cornstalks slant deeper into themselves,the red poppies.The blackening sky cracks openover the hills.The ancient song of the cricketdies in the harbor.It never stirs,the crown of the chestnut.Up the winding stairsyour dress rustles.The candle’s glowing silencedarkens the room.Your silver handquenches it.Tonight, no wind, no stars.Translated by Eric Plattner…………………………………………………………………SommerAm Abend schweigt die…
Not your dark poisons again,
This fantastically strange gardenOf trees in deepening twilightFills up with serpents, nightmoths,Spiders, bats.Approaching stranger!Yo u r a b a n d o n e d s h a d o wIn the red of eveningIs a dark pirate shipOf the salty oceans of confusion.White birds from the outskirts of the nightFlutter out over the shuddering…
A carpet, into which the suffering landscape pales
Golden things fall out of storm cloudsInsanity, that seizes the gentle human.The old waters gurgle a blue laughter.And sometimes a dark pit opens.The possessed are reflected in cold metalsDrops of blood fall on glowing platesAnd a countenance decays in black night.Flags, which babble in sinister vaults.Other things remind on the birds’ flightOver the gallows the…
I go into the evening,
You are bewitched by every light,O feel, what struggles with you!A dead woman’s voice that I lovedSpeaks: poor is the fools’ heart!Forget, forget what clouds the soul!The becoming shall be your pain!