I dream I met you beside the wall - that is like a glacier, there where existence ends--- you were promenading your opulent greatness, its sad dark velvet.

Poor...
Your foot,
decorous in purest ivory,
or?
With satanic mercilessness
scorned the poor souls full of
patience
who offered themselves to your
perjured love,
nevertheless.

My tender love,
which tirelessly as a sad
little lamb,
follows the track of your
shadow's fragrant step

searched for the torment of
your noble yoke;
under your satin executioner's foot,
like a carpet I lay my
slave-heart...