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.