my little heart is so wonderfully sorry
lady,to have seen you on its threshold
smiling,to have experienced the glory
of your slender and bright going, and it is so cold
(nothing being able to comfort its grief)
without you,that it would like i guess to die.
Also my lady do i feel as if
perhaps the newly darkening texture of my
upon nothing a little clumsily closing
mind will keep always something who has
fallen,who being beautiful is gone
and suddenly. As if you will point at the evening
“in this particular place,my lover,the moon
unspeakably slender and bright was”