Frantic, he holds her near,
Darkly looks in her eye.
"Pain so burns you, Dear,
And at my breath you sigh.
"Oh, you have drunk my soul.
Mine is your glow, in truth.
My jewel, shine your fill.
Glow, blood of youth."
"Sweetest, so pale your face,
So wondrous strange your words.
See, rich in music’s grace
The lofty gliding worlds."
"Gliding, dearest, gliding,
Glowing, stars, glowing.
Let us go heavenwards riding,
Our souls together flowing."
His voice is muffled, low.
Desparate, he looks about.
Glances of crackling flame
His hollow eyes shoot out.
"You have drunk poison, Love.
With me you must away.
The sky is dark above,
No more I see the day."
Shuddering, he pulls her close to him.
Death in the breast doth hover.
Pain stabs her, piercing deep within,
And eyes are closed forever.
Karl Marx
Zeitschrift fur das gebildete Deutschland
January 23, 1841
No comments:
Post a Comment