Everything that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear.
You are always new, the last of your kisses was ever the sweetest.
--then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
O aching time! O moments big as years!
I wish you could invent some means to make me at all happy without you. Every hour I am more and more concentrated in you; everything else tastes like chaff in my mouth.
O Solitude! If I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap of murky buildings