My chant must enclose hell
And yet here leave behind
Myself of touch and vow;
My hour has come when gales —
The brief song of Greek —
Have found the inner teeth alone.
Here listen, someone is calling —
Why the ugly praise and fate?
Shall I be a joiner to this
And leave here the good hope?
Not to prank the lucky star
I'll apologize, wait until
The great way works for woe!
Woe? never, you Parsifal;
Never — and by the trait of love's
Light shell, sneering outpour.
Not to blame — wait, a travel
For an excuse; a good life lay
In the real actions, the pomped
Horn, and the pardons of a door.
What interfering, cloaked love
Rules my thoughts!
Shall I write: O anger, hast thou
Not treated thy refuging forbear?
Perhaps I can walk a bit
To my truthful veins and relate
The sport of the steeds that trot
The stirring muscles of an earthly
Gait and my hearted glow.
O worm, worm-heated soil,
Peal sad mereing folds
Where cometh a home afar;
And again a slow fainting ghost
Gliding over a path easily seen ...
God! some voice disturbs me
From the inner room;
I catch the subject: Death!
Death, what a careless value
To such aged spirits. Again
A sad remark. Life not valued
By such retired souls, who
Should be apart to believe
Justice ... Ah, man, not thy boast!
He was a marked lad
Who poorly helped himself.
What should this mean?
Fill your pockets — I'll let
You know the grass of a grave.
O the pillars of silk and good tea,
Confusion of women, the bare bust —
Embarrassment, carnal filth
Of its justice lacks environment;
O creaking earth, necessity; hell,
No more wise; then the next child —
What can he give?
You pallid stork, gazing —
Who gazed before you, cooled
The summer spray?
Very bad for an apartment Jew to claim
Everlasting renaissance.
What a delivery was this,
Sucked by secret gilded creatures
Who slew gold for a membrane!
O tear, sped into the basin
Of sparkling night aghast in silence,
And the pipes' swift pain
Of the boiling steam shocks uplifting
You, endless wretch of silver!