| hate blows a bubble of despair into |
| hugeness world system universe and bang |
| - fear buries a tomorrow under woe |
| and up comes yesterday most green and young |
| pleasure and pain are merely surfaces |
| (one itself showing,itself hiding one) |
| life's only and true value neither is |
| love makes the little thickness of the coin |
| comes here a man would have from madame death |
| neverless now and without winter spring? |
| she'll spin that spirit her own fingers with |
| and give him nothing(if he should not sing) |
| how much more than enough for both of us |
| darling. And if i sing you are my voice, |
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