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I met

I met a sister ‘fore the morrow.
Her eyes shined like drops of sorrow.
And through dirt, mirth, and our rows,
till dawn, her I gladly followed.
 
Me thinks it was but a dream,
a poem that passed by me.
I almost forgot it, it seems.
I just know its’ melody.
 

A Waltz Melody

The day is and the darkness has awoken
stars and cats and wenches
filled with whores, rabble, and wanderers,
police houses and jails sleep.
 
The child beholds in the din of its dreams
how an angel with lanterns goes around our houses,
and alone in the late night,
I fight against a languorous waltz,
and my bones really are quite skinny,
likewise are my arms and throat.
 
I have sold my songs to the podia of pleasure,
and God may forgive me for some of those rows,
for my bones really are quite skinny,
likewise are my arms and throat.
 
The son of mortification in the grammophone
flounces for Hansel and for Gretel.
Clown, oh yes, joker, oh yes,
yes, that may be good to know.
 
Just give me a word that rhymes with sun,
when I already have used violin and violet.
Alas, alone in the late night,
I fight against a languorous waltz,
and my bones really are quite skinny,
likewise are my arms and throat.
 
I have nothing at all to win in this world,
and soon in my ditch the worms shall find
that my bones really are quite skinny,
likewise are my arms and throat.