Love,
With your lips a tremble
As the leaves through the thicket,
Run to me,
That I might carry you
In what have been
The emptiest arms.
Watchful,
Wishful
To each frowning smile,
Teeming of the mind
Among your heart.
You want this,
You want to leave
The peeled-off garments
Of your sadness
To the sea, where you swum.
Feel this,
A single stroke through your hair,
One solitary kiss
Upon your heavenly lips,
No longer shedding tears
Upon the waves.
Modern Romanticism 