Guest
In der Palästra As through the pipes the waters fell Down to the bottom of the well In listless apathy I gazed At the cold waters - as he bathed I half behold that scenery And its most sensual masculinity Yet, disappointment, oh, can’t you see Is still the cause and the cardinal symptom of my sick, sad reality Silver equals chill, but that suits me just fine I’m shyly sipping water while he drinks whole jugs of wine He likes all kind of women, and I, I only hate men He marvels at all things new to him and I only wait for all things in this sick world to end The water pouring down his spine Caressed his strong physique, oh, so well-defined Calm like a rock he stands, oh, behold his beautiful body and soul A friendly God must have built this man to an all well-balanced whole What sad bewilderment this brought Physical clearness, alas, still so much abhorred: An ancient ghost awoke and fiercely arose in me: It was that old, savage, yet half-forgotten ideal of perfect neutrality
