The Autumn Vale

In solemn sheds I've hid alone

Where death had danced its last encore 

Languished in the parting light 

Today, tomorrow, and of yestersights

The Rhine, the rust, the rye, the row,

To be better dressed in a 6x4.

And lone these roots that fester din

This earth, its light, its parting glint

And to move me, oh, so elucidly 

Obtrusively shuttered in reclusivity

To pin a hole through daring thoughts

To dream myself across the marsh

To dance in fog and grace a hand

To be at reach, where my lover stands.

Lambent, these thoughts burn rampant

Dazing into a gone, 

Missing my goddess of the Schwalm.

If I could tell her. . .

Could it do any more harm?

She has already found her home; 'tis I that is alone; 

It's not me. . . . And all that I see or seem,

I keep in the late hours of my dreams

Facing witches, these haunted pictures

The crux of pernicion

The Sehnsucht of my demon

There is no rest.