a few short steps across the lake— Are you awake? See, glittering on the milk-blue, morning lake They are laying the golden racing-track of the sun; The day has begun. The sun is in my eyes, I must get up. I want to go, there's a gold road blazes before My breast—which is so sore. What?—your throat is bruised, bruised with my kisses? Ah, but if I am cruel what then are you? I am bruised right through. What if I love you!—This misery Of your dissatisfaction and misprision Stupefies me. Ah yes, your open arms! Ah yes, ah yes, You would take me to your breast!—But no, You should come to mine, It were better so. Here I am—get up and come to me! Not as a visitor either, nor a sweet And winsome child of innocence; nor As an insolent mistress telling my pulse's beat. Come to me like a woman coming home To the man who is her husband, all the rest Subordinate to this, that he and she Are joined together for ever, as is best. Behind me on the lake I hear the steamer drum- ming From Austria. There lies the world, and here Am I. Which way are you coming?
WHY DOES SHE WEEP?
HUSH then why do you cry? It's you and me the same as before. If you hear a rustle it's only a rabbit gone back to his hole in a bustle. If something stirs in the branches overhead, it will be a squirrel moving uneasily, disturbed by the stress of our loving. Why should you cry then? Are you afraid of God in the dark? I'm not afraid of God. Let him come forth. If he is hiding in the cover let him come forth. Now in the cool of the day it is we who walk in the trees and call to God "Where art thou?" And it is he who hides. Why do you cry? My heart is bitter. Let God come forth to justify himself now. Why do you cry? Is it Wehmut, ist dir weh? Weep then, yea for the abomination of our old righteousness, We have done wrong many times; but this time we begin to do right. Weep then, weep for the abomination of our past righteousness. God will keep hidden, he won't come forth.
GIORNO DEI MORTI
ALONG the avenue of cypresses All in
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