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J. Wolker (1900–1924)
“Antonin,
My husband, see,
Why do you come
This hour to me?
That other love
Why did you desire?
That lover of steel,
Shovel and fire?
Why two loves struggle
In each man’s eyes?
One love he kills,
Of the other dies.”
The blind man does not hear—
The darkness swallows him;
He sinks; by darkness’ hands
Enveloped and caressed.
And now his wounded heart
Is parting from his breast,
Is seeking to be healed,
In other wrappings dressed.
And yet, above the dark,
The dark of blindness, hangs
A lamp of radiant joy—
No radiant lamp, but eyes.
The eyes are yours, that gave
To all the world their sight,
To see most clearly
And never dim their light.
c.v.—6*
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