Hiding my love in poetry
was my best means to protect it
from indiscretion and importunism,
and thus have I kept it safe for you
intact and entire in glorious purity
for its safeguarded expansion infinitely,
and yet I don’t know where you are,
perhaps not even who you are,
since my knowledge of you ever was imperfect
in awkwardness and shortcomings,
since I never knew what you expected of me.
Perhaps it was nothing or merely friendship,
but I ever gave you more and wanted more
and wished so much more to offer you,
but you were never there
in physical accessibility
since you were only soul
and the more overwhelming spiritually
for your absence of approachability.
Once Beethoven said, that ”In woman
the body has no soul and the soul no body.”
and yet he loved the more
for never reaching his beloved.
But I have always reached you
and kept your self within me
and will do so continuously forever.