down to the bottom of the well,
in listless apathy I gazed
at the cold waters ... - as he bathed.
and its most sensual masculinity.
Yet, disappointment, oh, can't you see,
is still the cause and the cardinal symptom
of my sick, sad reality.
I'm shyly sipping water ... while he drinks whole jugs of wine.
He likes all kinds of women, and I ...I only HATE ...men.
He marvels at all things new to him ... -
and I only wait ... for all things in this sick world ... to end.
caresses his strong physique, oh, so well-defined,
calm like a rock he stands,
oh, behold his beautiful body and soul
a friendly God must have built this man
to an well-balanced whole.
physical clearness, alas, still so much abhorred:
an ancient ghost awoke and fiercely arose in me:
it was that old, savage, yet half-forgotten ideal
of perfect neutrality.
I'm shyly sipping water... while he drinks
whole jugs of wine.
He likes all kinds of women,
and I ... I only hate ... men.
He marvels at all things new to him,
and I only wait for all things
in this sick world to end.
he never knew or encountered
the hatred and shame that I bare.
The doubt, the cloak of disgust
and the all-devouring dread,
and if I told him about it, he might only
shake his head with kindly amused,
melodious laughter, he then would perhaps
merely smile at my ... oh, so stupid silliness ... and the beast
that is raging inside.