One brain, one mouth, one being - nothing more!
I’ve killed my selves so many times
My own womb has suffered crimes,
To be a poet have I tried
But my ink has gotten dry.
Rebirthed myself as man - for the poems, for the words, nothing more
Everything missed Dionysus like never before!

A different life among you have I led!
Deprived myself of all life gives
In dark, alone and cold I wept.
Destitute and desperate now,
My heart freezing on a lonely bough.
The bulb above my brow is hanging by a single thread and when
It falls and breaks to pieces they will know that I am dead.

Come sleep - or come death,
I can see no difference.
Blind me at least so I can mock the Sun!

With shut eyes they think I am illiterate,
Primordial is the essence and I am her son.

They want me to dance at the feet of chance!
Embrace chaos in my attic,
Die a young and worthy addict.
Forced to live in Hölderlin’s tower
As nothing more than a wilting flower.
My words trembled but were barren, devoid of romance,
So my poetry never made anyone dance.

I clipped my wings so I can drink with sailors,
Walk amongst them on my frail feet,
To be man is all I ever wanted,
Chugged the nectar of life which made me sick.
Oh, men! How fragile you are!
Slowly poisoned by the time you try to escape
‘Meaningless is existence’ you say as you create!

Come sleep - or come death, 
I can see no difference. 

Poverty through poetry, the most human way to go,
Come sleep - or come death,
Let me go.

He wanted to be human - the humanest of them all - a poet!
He wanted to put pain on paper - even make it rhyme
He wanted to be the one to hear the screams of time.
And as the light faded and the bulb broke,
Darkness came wearing mistress clothes.
‘Oh, men! How strange you really are!’ - he yelled.
‘Dionysus! What a man you have become!’ - she said.
Then he disappeared swearing to never return,
Thinking that poetry is for those who like to burn.