
a Glass Floor Underfoot - 30. Black-Magic Man
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Dämmerung
1. Schwarz-Magier
So einzig nicht begehre ich die Salbe
Von deiner schönen Hände weichem Druck,
Daß darum ich mein Königreich der Albe
Abtäte, starrer Monde finstern Schmuck.
Auch du verschmähtest ja des Denkens Lüge,
Und Phantasie als Kinderspiel und Trug.
Und doch blieb wach dein Wähnen, das Gefüge
Der Nacht zu lösen; Liebe sei genug?
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Gloaming
1. Black-Magic Man
So singly do I not desire the unguent
Coming from your pleasing hands’ soft pressure,
That I renounce my realm of the white vestment,
Which makes for the rigid moon’s dark pleasure.
For you’ve also spurned the lie of thought’s resolve;
Viewed imagination as blind man’s bluff.
Yet your faith keeps vigil, the night’s game to solve,
Shaken loose, asking whole, is love enough?
Tyra Kleen Forbidden Fruit (1915)
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