I love you not,
but I will come to you
one day,
when the wind hangs lazily high up above the sun,
like a child who has played itself tired –
I will come to you on the beach,
where the rocks lie like loose hot ashes on the water,
and the sea is like a pale green light,
which has been carefully poured over the earth –
that day you must lie like a wave,
out of whose clean foam
life has created your loins –
I love you not,
but I will come to you that day
and press my burning eyes
into your deep cool lap –