Turquoise sky: all’s asleep.
Hoar — frost on the branches stiff frosen
Like small diamonds quietly creeps.

Pinkish fair sunrise through the mounts
Coming through — it’s the time for the sun.
But it’s frost, only frost now counts,
And the mysterious marble .

Words have slid in fresh, very quiet sea wind,
Like foot traces they sink in a sandy disguise.
Like an agate a glance quickly slipped
                                                        by the prints
Sinking fast in the debths of indifferent eyes.


Like a sad sleepy chord of a mystery ball
Ringing sound of guitar —
                                  it’s for none and for all,
Modulation of strings,
                            sound of gentle Baroque,
Like a spider, a guy with guitar on the rock.

And a crowd of the curious catching
                                                       the chance
Standing ready to dive in this dream
                                                     Decadance.

There’s the Moon shining right through
                                                           the blinds
Framed by lace of the twigs
                                      and the branches.
Silence hangs in the air over mounts,
And the bright lunar mould water touches.

And the wind scatters papers on desk
Fresh and strong, it has entered abruptly
Bringing dreams — stupid small arabesques,
Dropping glass from the desk and disrupting.

It has whispered of somebody’s love,
As an accord it’s pulled with it’s gust
The window I didn’t close enough,
Wiping blood from the hand like my past

Our feelings believe it or not
Are like pieces of glass in the blood.

The road flies up to meet the dim twilight,
The dusk has fallen into haze
The world has squeezed into the needle eye,
Collapsed in an enormous blaze

And you’ve regarded it so thoughtfully
and whispering the quiet joy:
Oh look! The Moon is hanging on a pole,
Reached out like an enchanted boy.

It hangs like lantern, like a bright streetlight,
Lighthouse on a distant coast,
And we, the latest two romanticists
Conveyed it in the worldly frost.

I’m leaving a Northern mysterious land,
Where fjords cut the earth like
                                          a monstrous knife,
The place of trolls and the fantasy land,
Which has its peculiar different life.

A mountain, covered with wood,
                                                hides the road,
The tops of the pines are secured in dim,
Trolls whisper each other on evil and fraud,
From under the snags, and deceitfully grin.

And rocks all in moss wait for misty sunrise
So ready to charm, even more hypnotize.

Breath of the Moon above the cloudy steam,
We are in town of magic dreams,
A path of water as a silver string
Starts silently for us to sing.

Night lamps give light to quiet sleepy streets,
The church in light of dawn
                                      the morning greets,
And as a cloud quickly leaves the sight
All that I throw away in leaving night.

In a little restaurant we drink the wine
Where swims and shines a wonderful
                                                         moonlight
And the Old town in brilliance of the lights
Drinks pale shine of the Moon —
                                          The balm of night.

I’m coming back to my forgotten world
From radiant romantic fairy land,
From terrible nightmares, I had got,
From depths of libraries,
                       from riddles to understand.

I close the ancient volumes read so far,
And walk along the river by the snow:
I’ll see you soon my beautiful Nekkar,
I won’t forget your wonderful nightglow.

I won’t forget the towers overhead,
Plane trees and scarlet carpet of the roofs,
And Schwarzwald mounts, cold,
                                            serene and sad,
The crystal air which consoles and soothes.

And so I stay alone on the bridge,
The same as was in long-forgotten dreams
And my sapphire drinks moonlight
                                                       to bewitch
And whispers something in this magic gleam

I shall come back,
I hope I will
I needn’t check —
I know you’re thrilled

Alas for you, but not for me,
I’m coming not to you, my friend
Alas for you, but not for me,
I’m coming to another man.

I’ve waited long,
And that’s my day,
Since now I do refuse to play
(Who knows, probably, my fate —
‘s to share the worldly masquerade)

Since with that one I meant to be —
Alas for you, but not for me!

Ich traeume — jetzt wie immer schlisse ich
Die Augen,
Und sehe ich so deutlich
Nur ein Gesicht,
Ein einzelnes Gesicht,
Das habe ich gesehen sehr heufig.

Und hoere ich die Stimme, die zu mir
Gekommen war als von den fern" Planetten,
Die milde zarte Stimme,
Die von hier hat mir genommen
Wenn wir zwei geredet.

Ich denke nicht ob wir zusammen seien,
Und trotzdem hoffe ich, dass wir es schaffen.
Auf meine Wange brennt noch Kuesse rein,
Und Ihre Augen immer mir anschauen.