melancholia

I

behold! here comes
the dark lady – my dark mistress:

her hair ruffled
by the cold wind
of winter
flying about her face

tears of blood
run down her cheeks –
red rivulets
on moon-pale skin.

she lures me
to her realm of night –
i follow her
all thoughts extinguished.

her caress – as
cold as the wind –
it chills me
chills me to the bone.

her kiss stirs
an ancient desire
that knows no relief;
takes all – gives naught.

and leaves me behind
shattered.
tongue-tied.
deaf.
blind.
hers.

II

do out all lights
around the house
let not a sound be heard

lock out the sun
silence the winds
that not a leaf be stirr’d

(my mistress sleeps)

from gentle hands
o’er my soul’s strings
a silver song call’d forth

has quelled all rage,
has softened looks
has cooled my lady’s wrath

(my mistress sleeps)

the brow i’ve seen
so oft before
with fury furrow’d deep

is even now:
a gentle face –
a beauty in her sleep

(and so hers still)

o, rest you then
and as you sleep
i will your slumber guard

(and all the while
my muse’s song
still fills my aching heart).