More poems
To my disappointment, I must profess
that I am not witty or smart.
In all that I do, never the best,
and I render obscene atrocities of art.
I am homely and, I presume, rather dull,
and little that I do carries true merit.
My trepidation is nothing more than pitiable
and of my virtues, little good shall come from it.
However, despite my vices, I shall overcome
and ,forevermore, shine brighter than the sun.
Mein Engel, to where did you go?
I find myself alone in this dark pit
reliving painful memories from ages ago.
This dismal abyss, where I must sit,
allows little light to comfort me.
Subjected to these tortures til it sees fit
to allow me to live and be free,
I tremble vehemently as a chill
rises, as if I were lost at sea.
I am sure some higher power finds a thrill
at my vulnerable situation,
like a beast delighting in its kill.
And if it is supernal forces, then little evasion
may I even attempt to remedy
my terrible and disturbing affliction.
Once, in a similar time, you saved me
and brought me from this place
into another of a higher degree
where there was nothing of distaste,
and bitterness and sorrow
were gone without a trace.
Where no one had a single foe,
and complete tranquility reigned.
this world I instantly loved so
that without it, my content would wane,
and I would be no more than a shell,
bitter, and happiness stained.
But you would return to my hell
and take me very far away,
the joy of which I can't possibly tell.
So now, I, in this abyss, must stay
awaiting you to return to me.
Though it may be a million more days,
I'll wait on your coming back to me,
Mein Engel. And amourous, evermore, we shall be.