To The Many

I — am your voice, the warmth of your breath,

I — am the reflection of your face,

The futile trembling of futile wings,

I am with you to he end, in any case.

That's why you so fervently love

Me in my weakness and in my sin;

That's why you impulsively gave

Me the best of your sons;

That's why you never even asked

Me for any word of him

And blackened my forever-deserted home

With fumes of praise.

And they say — it's impossible to fuse more closely,

Impossible to love more abandonedly. . .

As the shadow from the body wants to part,

As the flesh from the soul wants to separate,

So I want now — to be forgotten..