I'm sitting here on a shimmering rockface. The light breeze of youth's summer, like the warmth of a lovely dinner, drifts away.
I'm going to teach my heart the ways of silence. It's not so difficult—it's the torment that dwells here, for all that has vanished, the head bows low and the hand falls.
I listen to the voice of mountains— your forehead's light flashes through every leaf. On the road, no one, no one, I can see the wind about to make your skirt dance. And beneath the brittle foliage, I see your hair swaying forward as you ride, your soft breasts trembling, and, as soon as the stream rushes away, I see again how laughter—fairy laughter—springs from the round white stones and your teeth.
I love you as the mother of my child, as deep in the silent pits, I love you like the light flooding the halls, as a flame of the soul, the body's tranquility!
I love you as mortals love to live until they die. All your smiles, your movements, your words, I guard them like precious things fallen to earth. In my mind, like acids etching metal, I have bitten you with my instincts, your gentle, beautiful form, your being fills all the depths there.
Moments pass, but you sit silent in my ear. Stars fall and fall, but you remain fixed in my eyes.
Your taste, like silence in a cave, swings cold through the measures, and your hand upon the water glass, with delicate longing and love, stirs me within.
Oh, what kind of clay am I that your eyes can intersect and shape me? What kind of soul and what kind of light and wonder is it to walk through the mysterious landscapes of your fertile body in the mist of nothingness?
And as the word opens to reason, I can descend into its mysteries!... Your blood circles, like rose bushes, trembles without end. They carry the eternal power to open your cheeks to love and the blessed fruit of your womb.
The delicate soil of your body is embroidered through and through with many roots, weaves its fine yarn into knots, breaking down its bog, so that the cell of your saps gathers many rays, and the beautiful scrubs of your leafy areas are sulking their own glory!
Eternal matter happily passes through the tunnels of the intestines in you and a rich life is won by the slag on the hot wells of the fervent kidneys!
Undulating hills rise, constellations vibrate in you, lakes move, work factories perish millions of living animals, beetles, birds,—cruelty and goodness in one frame; the sun shines, the gloomy northern light glooms— in your content there wanders the unconscious eternity.
Like clots of blood, those words fall before you. Existence stammers; only law speaks with pure tongue. But my hard-working organs, reborn day by day, are already prepared to fall silent.
But in the meantime, they're all crying out— you one, you soft cradle, strong grave, living bed, take me in!...
How high this morning sky! My eyes are burned by such brilliance. I'm lost, I think. I can hear my heart thundering above me.
The train carries me, I'll come after you, perhaps I'll find you today, perhaps this burning face will cool, perhaps you'll say softly: The lukewarm water flows, come bathe. Here's the towel. Roast the meat, sharpen your appetite! Where I'm lying is your bed.