With petal-winged saintly hands, with sun-baked bronze Eve-skin, came the Angel of Destiny in a dress of light, in a glorious diamond moon-coat, swiftly towards me.
What strange game did she tempt me to play? Her proud, fair soul was touched: she lay like a butterfly's wing of rainbows at my side. The earthly Universe could be ours now, Tangible in our souls she moved, As when the pearls of our happiness were clinging to golden resin, To bear witness of their immortality.
Could he have been the hope of all the present?! On her soft, proud hips, graceful as deer's, like serpents, the proud geometric curves of her proud hips, Wove like undulating waves; and in her broken circles her superstitious rope-dance and her swerves, Through which her rhythmically quivering, superstitious body, Like a million sunbeams of sunshine, fell the glow of her starry talismanic loins.
Beneath her bewitching figure, her love-starved girlish shyness shines through. The pathyol of virgin-consuming holy desire Is itself like a blaze of flame: self-giving crimson roses her tender, revealing noble lips Give as a gift of delight. Her light bosom waves in tiny heaps, For she cannot stand the pretence-light she makes - So on her swift, slender legs she moves to the crystal eyes of the windows.
And after her - alas! - but for the umpteenth time my heart-devouring, scarlet-judgment pains remained - after him I lifted my dumb, orphaned boyish, pleading look. Elpisis, my bald mountain-head. Where has the faithful One-fellow of my vain, petty existence gone?! Who confessed, while his beating golden heart ticked on, the everlasting love that was pledged in our hearts?!