(4 December 1875 – 29 December 1926 / Prague / Czech Republic)

What do you think this poem is about?

Blank Joy

She who did not come, wasn't she determined
nonetheless to organize and decorate my heart?
If we had to exist to become the one we love,
what would the heart have to create?

Lovely joy left blank, perhaps you are
the center of all my labors and my loves.
If I've wept for you so much, it's because
I preferred you among so many outlined joys.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003


Read poems about / on: joy, heart, love

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