"O where are you going with your love-locks flowing,
  On the west wind blowing along this valley track?"
"The downhill path is easy, come with me an it please ye,
  We shall escape the uphill by never turning back."

So they two went together in glowing August weather,
  The honey-breathing heather lay to their left and right;
And dear she was to doat on, her swift feet seemed to float on
  The air like soft twin pigeons too sportive to alight.

"Oh, what is that in heaven where grey cloud-flakes are seven,
  Where blackest clouds hang riven just at the rainy skirt?"
"Oh, that's a meteor sent us, a message dumb, portentous,
  An undeciphered solemn signal of help or hurt."

"Oh, what is that glides quickly where velvet flowers grow thickly,
  Their scent comes rich and sickly?"--"A scaled and hooded worm."
"Oh, what's that in the hollow, so pale I quake to follow?"
  "Oh, that's a thin dead body which waits the eternal term."

"Turn again, O my sweetest,--turn again, false and fleetest:
  This beaten way thou beatest I fear is hell's own track."
"Nay, too steep for hill mounting; nay, too late for cost counting:
  This downhill path is easy, but there's no turning back."

Nature disservices poetry
Because leaves of grass
Contain more water
Than my poems could ever shed
Because trees hide more truths
Than my poems could ever conceal
Because the tiniest mayfly
Knows more disparaging cruelty
Sheds more blood
And ***** more often
Than my poems ever could
Nature is the beatest poet
And that is why
I won’t recycle

The Autumn rises up into our common days
I met You when the day good bye says
The Orion was risen up in the sky and I fell in love
        with this heavenly guy.
Then every night, every time cloudless was sky
I saw him, he was sowing in me
The seed of deepest carving.

The deepest cause in my beatest heart,
Every time more late in the night.
Close to morning was my likest sight.
Then I woke up and the dream was gone.
But no, I’m still sleeping, it was never done.

The sky vagrant guy still rises up and falls down
On the night azure and in my burning heart blown
         down by the wind of cold reason.
But I still love the strange person,
His brown eyes
Which every time to me say:
„Wake up and the dream will be gone.“
But it will be never done.

The Orion still crosses the winter sky,
Like love our soul, and I ask: Why?
I see still your fresh smile,
From time I met you – a while.
I want to wake up and still want to sleep,
With your smell in the dream which should have been gone,
But it must not be done.