When under cold spade
Crunching sand and bright snow,
In my, sad and free,
Another man humbled himself.
Let this death was clear -
In the shower, in songs memorial service,
Really stood out evil spots
memorable insults.
Already I threaten to shrink
Hitherto kind hand.
Too was rising and rushing
Inwardly poisoned longing…
I suppressed rage deaf,
Melancholy oblivion betray.
Holy little grave
I will pray at night.
But - to be kneeling,
thank you, starches? –
Not. over baby, of blissful,
I grieve without you.
February 1909
