Prayer and Meditation

You walk by my side and ignore me. Now your white hand hurts me, your sweet face. O, as usual, say a kind word, a single word to me! The wounds continue to bleed secretly, you have no rest either.

The mouth that now, to my torment, shuts silently in front of me, I've kissed it so many thousands of times. What was once so blissful now breaks the heart in two. The eye that drank my soul looks past me strangely. words! words! no action! Never meat, beloved doll, always spirit and no roast, no dumplings in the soup! But perhaps the wild lumbar strength that gallops daily on the horse of passion is not beneficial to you.

Yes, I'm almost afraid it's finally dragging you, tender child, on that wild hunt of love, Cupid's race. Much healthier for you, I think, is a sick man as a lover who, like me, can hardly move a limb. Therefore our bond of heart, dearest, dedicate your instincts. This is very healthy for you, a kind of love for health.

Your Wedding in the Emmental

If your heart is pressed against mine, I can truly never say. Is it the waves of mine, yours that beat in such love? I just wish I could lay my heart in your heart, to feel pain and pleasure in the same beats, the same loving, the same aiming. That if mine found peace, yours would also find peace, that if yours stood in death, mine would stand in death too.

Believe me, my heart hasn't grown cold, it's glowing as hot as ever, and what you take for winter inside is only appearance, is painted snow. But what I feel in old love, I now close in the deepest sense, and no longer carry it into the throng of eternally cold people. I am like wine that has fermented. He no longer foams back and forth, but what was lost on the outside he has more in inner fire.