White bee, even when you are gone you buzz in my soul You live again in time, slender and silent.
While I'm writing, I'm far away; and when I come back, I've gone.
my feet will want to walk to where you are sleeping but I shall go on living.
How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me, my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running. So many times we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes, and over our heads the grey light unwinds in turning fans.
sometimes i get up at dawn, and even my soul is wet.
Bitter love, a violet with it's crown of thorns in a thicet of spiky passions, spear of sorrow, corolla of rage: how did you come to conquer my soul? What brought you?