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My palms are raised toward you,
To the little light
Which I still have in your eyes,
And you—sharpen your teeth
For the softness of my yellow flesh;
And were this flesh to be thrown upon the field
An…
Everyone loved . . . it was a plague
of infatuation, of kisses;
But the people soon became quiet,
the mothers were already nursing.
The drum of youth was laid
in the corner, and the…
There are many riddles in life,
Mounds and mounds of answers too;
The wise men have many solutions,
The morons have a desire for life.
Once a wise man told me:
“There is one essence of being,
Only…