My dearest Clara
how should I measure our love?
Words tremble and fail-
only my music will you more treasure
beyond the pale
of the spoken
nothing is more sublime
than the path we have trodden
the darkness that swallows me
only you alone can understand
I'm comforted by each melody
I dedicate to you--as my ears they lend
to the healing music of your tender hands
as they translate every tormented ache
of mine into some unspeakable respite
though none but you can feel my unbearable heartbreak.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem