And you love me

And you love me

I love you.

You are, then, cold coward.

Aye; but, beloved,

When I strive to come to you,

Man's opinions, a thousand thickets,

My interwoven existence,

My life,

Caught in the stubble of the world

Like a tender veil —

This stays me.

No strange move can I make

Without noise of tearing

I dare not.

If love loves,

There is no world

Nor word.

All is lost

Save thought of love

And place to dream.

You love me?

I love you.

You are, then, cold coward.

Aye; but, beloved —