Love

I wish I could see the violin once again 
lieing on its side 
and wonder; 
 
from there 
the fountain springs forth: 
out, from your body 
into this world; 
the half-tone difference 
of your poles 
gives that-in-you 
a right to exist, 
lets flow ... 
stream out, my soul 
to the closest terrain: 
he that takes the instrument 
like a blood-covered 
babe in its mother’s arms; 
But you 
lie in waiting; 
to receive the soul 
of your posessor, 
let the hollow, the wood 
resonate; 
give birth 
to the sound 
which will immortalise you.

The Violin