Classic Poem

I

Delicious, o oil that wants above,
blue smoke from the edge Räucherkorbe,
grad ascend vertonende theorbo,
Milk of the earthly, entquill,

shut the heaven, which are still small nourishing,
that you anruht, tear-stained Empire:
Goldgewordne as the high spike,
Reingewordne like the picture in the pond.

As we at night, that the fountain go,
heard in the lonely ear:
are you, rising, in our vision
all alone. As in a bottleneck

want my long look in you summed up,
eh you entfliehst this Request, -
that you love him, even if left completely white,
pull through the colors real sky.

II

Not only from the Gaze of the disciples, which
demes dress remains slight melancholy:
oh you take yourself out of the flowers chalices,
from the bird, which describes the flight;

from the full openness of the children,
from the udder and the Kaun Cow;
everything is less a gentleness,
only the sky inside to take.

Hingerissne fruit from our reason,
Berry, you're full of sweetness,
let us feel like you in the mouth
the rapturous bliss zergehst.

Because we stay where you fortkamst. Each
Place on the bottom wants to be comforted.
Tilt grace us, strengthening us as with wine.
For from Einsehn is there no talk.