1. IN DER PALASTRA

As through the pipes the waters fell
Down to the bottom of the well,
In listless apathy I gazed at the cold waters…
As he bathed.
I half behold that scenery
And its most sensual masculinity.
Yet, disappointment, oh, can't you see,
Is still the cause and the cardinal symptom of my sick, sad reality.

Silver equals chill,
But that suits me just fine.
I'm shyly sipping
Water … while he drinks whole jugs of wine.
He likes all kind of women,
And I … I only hate … men.
He marvels at all things new to him …
- and I only wait …
For all things in this sick world … to end.

The water pouring down his spine,
Caressed his strong physique,
Oh, so well-defined,
Calm like a rock he stands,
Oh, behold his beautiful body and soul a friendly God
Must have built this man to an all well-balanced whole.
What sad bewilderment this brought,
Physical clearness, alas,
Still so much abhorred:
An ancient ghost awoke
And fiercely arose in me:
It was that old, savage,
Yet half-forgotten ideal of perfect neutrality.

Silver equals chill,
But that suits me just fine.
I'm shyly sipping water…
While he drinks whole jugs of wine.
He likes all kind of women, and I…
I only hate… men.
He marvels at all things new to him… -
And I only wait…
For all things in this sick world… to end.

I somewhat envy this naturally beautiful man,
He never knew or encountered
The hatred and shame that I bare.
The doubt, the cloak of disgust
And the all-devouring dread,
And if I told him about it,
He might only shake his head with kindly amused,
Melodious laughter,
He then would perhaps merely smile
At my … oh, so stupid silliness …
And the beast that is raging inside.