Romantic is the clanking
of so many things
the clanking of the
old
lamp-light
in the night-growing wind
or more the gales
in a tempest storm
the clanking of the
bridge that sighs
and creaks at night:
even in summer
without wind
and yet it clanks,
clanks.
no hope
just dark
and groping
distant the clanking
iron in the brain
less, less romantic.[
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem