HAUNTING

Now the sky opens its great blue trellises,

 And the parting cold tears,

 like stifling little glass marbles, 

With pain in themselves,

 while down below in the ant's nest

 of the cold landscape 

The scaly trees rustle

 their rusted leaves for the last time.

 At the end of autumn's golden streams,

 buried in soft and caressing

 cushion-buttons, angel's eyes rest,

 - enjoying the immortal harmony:

 Up on the great Bald Mountain

 the carpeted grass has long since faded,

 ruined and yellowed to a golden mound! 

The young lovers linger

 a while longer, entwined

 in each other's arms,

 and breathlessly awaiting

 the immortal fulfilment of dawn.

 Drunk with love, their ears quivering,

 Poppy-red, and their hearts

 for each other breathing,

 A purple glowing furnace,

 thus they wait, bewitched,

 enchanted, and none of them moves,

 While they long wrapped in

 blankets, their Edenic

And would so well, now pausing moments,

 To steal arbitrarily and greedily

 the blessed fragments of divine eternity,

 - But cannot: For the self-sacrificing angel

 is long since a mother,

 While her unhappy knight is broken and bitter! 

They are haunted now, 

like cursed ghosts, by eternal years,

 and neither dared to cry out,

 and as long as they were together,

 to say with a reserved head,

 "Would that we had known sooner

 that the wounded Heart

 of us two was the more tender and vulnerable!"

 - The buffoon, who now casts

 his eyes on the mountain-agagasties,

 ponders, sighs alone,

 How is it that he still loves the naughty angel?

 - Even now he is only delaying to find the answer...