A tribute to Goethe
You are the very image
of perfection;
and all my heart and happiness
resounds within;
your very eminence
perfumes the air I breathe
and fills me with compassion.
My ideal is formed of you.
And what is sleep to one who takes
such pleasure from holding
the softness of your arm, or,
gently delivering a kiss?
But I am no longer comprised of the parts
that equal, in your eye,
the very reality
of my love.
No comments:
Post a Comment