©molly

The rough drops of your blood
Bring sweetness to my skin.

Do not call my eyes traitresses
Because they’re floating around your skies;

I’m resting on your night, smiling
And teaching your stars how to play.

And I’m walking through the rusty gate
Of your bliss with a song.

I love you and am coming nearer, in white
And transfigured on pilgrimage toes,

I’m taking your haughty heart,
Pure chalice, with me to the angels.

I love you as if I’d died
And my soul were spread across you –

My soul took in all the pain,
Its bitter images will shatter you.

But there are so many roses in bloom
I’d like to give you;

I’d like to bring you all the gardens
Woven into a wreath.

I keep thinking of you
Until the clouds drop down;

We’d like to kiss,
Wouldn’t we?

// To the Barbarian //

 Else Lasker-Schüler

 

 

© Emil Otto Hoppé

© serafin des senlis

© zofia rydet