|
  |
  |
Here I love you |
In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself. |
The moon glows like phosphorous on the vagrant waters |
Days, all one kind, go chasing each other |
  |
  |
The snow unfurls in dancing figures. |
A silver gull slips down from the west. |
sometimes a sail. High, high stars. |
  |
  |
Oh the black cross of a ship. |
Alone. |
Sometimes I get up early and even my soul is wet. |
Far away the sea sounds and resounds. |
This is a port. |
Here I love you. |
  |
  |
Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain. |
I love you still among these cold things. |
Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels |
that cross the sea towards no arrival. |
I see myself forgotten like those old anchors. |
The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there. |
My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose. |
I love what I do not have. You are so far. |
My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights. |
But night comes and starts to sing to me. |
The moon turns its clockwork dream. |
  |
  |
The biggest stars look at me with your eyes. |
And as I love you, the pines in the wind |
want to sing your name with their leaves of wire. |
  |
  |
  |
|