Oh love,
when I stumble,
it is into your shining eyes,
ah, the corners of your mouth;
I catch
the catch of a song,
which catches me still
and pulls me from this time to another,
long past.

Oh love. I fear so much that my tender words,
my tender kiss, blown from afar,
would mar with what you are now,
would sour if it touched you now.

Yet, even now, I reach
-the tips of my fingers meeting nothing but air-
for the dreams that we dreamed out of air,
which prick just as much
as the night when you turned
away from me in bed,
and I somehow knew,
that forever I had lost you.