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Zaista, zrak sam samo? I to je sjaj u meni,

što se sad, nestajući, rasipa, u prazninu,

osvetlivši mi put, i bezdan, u isti mah?

Sve su to bile, dakle, prolazne samo seni,

na koje sam, kroz blagost, i žalost, i tišinu,

stresao, ustreptao, svoj zvezdan, zračni, čisti, prah?

Odlazim, dakle, sa tela toplih, i mladih, srna,

ledu, na vrhu nekom, u bolnom svom hitanju?

A plač mi samo vraća se, porfiru jednog zrna,

što visi, o drhćućem, žarkom, koncu, u svitanju?

Tu, tu bih, u ovom životu, da me oblije slap

svih divota čulnih, kao pad mirisnog mleka.

A čini mi se, jedna jedina, takva, blista kap,

nad peskom pustinja, i tla, nad zemljom, daleka.

Zaista, zrak sam samo? I to je sjaj u meni,

što se sad, nestajući, rasipa, u prazninu,

osvetlivši mi put, i bezdan, u isti mah?

Sve su to bile, dakle, prolazne samo seni,

na koje sam, kroz blagost, i žalost, i tišinu,

stresao, ustreptao, svoj zvezdan, zračni, čisti, prah?

U Danskoj, 1929.

Fantasms

Indeed, merely a ray I am? And this is the glow in me,

that now, fading, squanders, into emptiness,

lighting me, at once, the way and the abyss?

So, all of it was only the ghosts staying fleetingly,

on whom, through grace, and sorrow, and quietness,

I, thrilled, strewed my starry, beamy, innocent bliss?

And so it is, from bodies of warm, and young, does, departing I am,

towards the ice, on some peak, in my anguished hurried flight?

And me yowl is only returning to me, the purpleness of a grain,

hanging, on a trembling, brilliant, thread, in the emerging sunlight?

Here, here may I, in this life, be suffused by the streams

of all sensual delights, like the rains of fragrant milk.

But it seems to me, one, and one only, such drop gleams,

distant, over the sand of deserts, and land, above the earthly silk.