Modern Romanticism

Call yourself

The angel without wings,

The preacher without a church,

The savior without a crown,

Though will you perish

For the world, in how it has languished?

You lack

What you can bring back

To hearts without their fire,

To hearts

Without higher

Feelings full of erupting pleasure.

My friend, in your feebleness,

Please get dressed,

Though not in the blood that drenches you.

Will you stay yourself

On the path of regret,

With so much to send downwards?

Send it up to your eyes,

Put back your tears

Where they belong.