“
Now reading
Songs
I
My love is like a bird with broken wings.
The flute which is her voice no longer sings-
A golden flute,
Now mute, now mute.
Against the blood-red sky, grey-white the sails
Of dawn are spread . . . but what avails
The dawn, the dawn,
Now she is gone?
u
O silver-throated fawn
Breathing in the grass
Asleep,
Oh, you were shy, about to fly,
When through the trees
The mazing breeze
Suddenly, sweetly,
Showed you to me.
You awaked
Washed in gold by the red sun,
And naked as the dawn.
As the dawn flame
You fled through the trees, and were gone.