Am die 24. März, sometime im der Zweitausend Jahren,
you held your farewell party;
invited sun, moon, house, ice cream,
me, friends: anything existent
and implored us
to bid your farewell.

Am die Morgen (24. May, 2012), you left.
Was was supposed to be eine guten Morgen
became a horrible dawn,
for it signified nothing less
than your nigh-permanent self-disappearance.

Now, am die Abend of 1. September, Zwanzig-und-vierzehn
I write this, in complete lament
Over the fact that
I could never accept your farewell.

9: 09 PM, you remain existent, indeed.
Reason cries out: LEAVE THIS VESSEL
Passion, retorts: You have long since left
Beauty mystifying
Lei, the unerring

Sorrow, O, Sorrow.
I no longer understand.
Have I gone mad?

Indeed, you may have.