) Then the
wrinkles
I express,
Of the heart, smile into emptiness.
Of the heart, smile into emptiness.
19th Century French Poetry
Gathering up with defiance
My pale-mandarin's sleeves
I puff out my mouth - and breathe
Gentle Christian advice.
Ah, yes, to become legendary, too,
On the brink of a charlatan age!
But where are last year's Moons?
And why can't God be re-made?
Pierrot's Melancholy
On the first day, I drink their bored eyes complete. . .
And I would kiss their feet
To death. Oh, if they'd deign
To take my heart, blood-stained!
Then we talk. . . - it becomes Tenderness,
And finally I offer them friendliness.
Out of tenderness, I offer myself, as brother, guide;
They believe I'm shy,
Wink a soft eye of course:
'One word and I'm yours! '
(I believe it.
) Then the wrinkles I express,
Of the heart, smile into emptiness. . .
And suddenly I surrender the garrison,
Feigning treason!
(A narrow escape! )
At least, she'll write?
No, and I mourn her all that season. . .
- Oh! I've schemes beyond reason!
Who'll tame my heart! Sweet cure. . .
I'm true by nature!
