A Bouquet of Verse

I Would Ransom Her...

I kiss her — and can my kisses be counted? —
and her mouth dances against my lips and sings.
A wonder! Whenever I kiss her mouth,
her eyelid shies away and a breast turns aside...
I bend her waist with my hand and it nestles there,
yet she shies from my hand while my hand holds fast.
Is it war she kindles in love —
and we still at love's beginning, as yet...?

To a Pianist

Your graceful fingertips have played upon hearts and upon the piano —
their tips are red, as though on every fingertip a pearl!
You made the piano's tongue speak out with grace and suppleness;
in its merry rovings it is like a bird whose song rings clear,
and in your singing throat a nightingale chants without weariness,
telling its tale as the boon companion tells it, with never a stammer nor a foreign burr.
So I heard the sequel of longing and yearning and playful abandon,
and I cried out sigh upon sigh, like a drunkard in his tavern!

O My Night Companion

O you who bewitch me with those eyes,
I love you to the point of madness.
I see you — and with another! Why? —
and the doubts about you find their answer.
Who then is this intruding companion, this liar, this traitor?
He is not worthy of this beauty of yours — so how can you betray?
I was envied on your account, and people envy only a blessing.
After the gentle quiet,
after happiness and calm,
I saw you making merry so often,
carousing to the point of wantonness.
Answer me — you blush! — from where, then, were you taught these arts?
I knew you as a lover most faithful, most enchanting;
has vanity struck you? Has madness seized you?
If your promise is a debt,
how many debts you owe me!

You passed close by me and I took no notice, as though you did not exist;
my heart did not throb with longing,
nor did the lashes of my eyelids flutter.
So I have made my heart forget your love,
and turned my eyes away from you.