The Tremor of the Untouched

In your gaze my feeling's focused creation stands still—
those mysterious eyes where my weariness found rest,
this afternoon like the gift of your embrace.

In darkness, in emptiness, our distance returns,
unprepared recognition changed our illustrated story
yet—
I've placed my hand deep in your chest, taking the final breath,
the day you first held my hand on excuse of error.

She whose kiss holds my endless life's pulse,
have you ever looked, kohl-rimmed eyes and all?
When a sudden shower falls in your eyes,
compassionate want flows through all of me.
This never stops...
I am not still in this scene—
this heart sits broken and alone in solitude;
as if to bear the weight of your sorrow
it finds no one more faithful than myself.

My heart doesn't want to give you the bad news today,
let sadness descend in your eyes and wounds multiply,
this feels like a tormenting sympathy—
whose clarity burns eyes to ash
on that shadow-covered path's turn I find you again.

When fever comes I seek only you,
where did I find you?
Thus ended an era,
at last—
in your voice I heard my nickname again.

Your melody and mine bound in the same rhythm,
come, let's drift in this current far, far away...
the path where you offered yourself
how can I walk stepping on that ground?

Come back again,
become again—
some nameless unknown goddess
who stirs not by touch, but by feeling alone.