I.

And as he strolled among the truly real

(an “urgent” man, he only seemed),

the glint of danger he could feel

in that great space became a hint that gleamed.

Smiling, he crossed the room so he could hand

a Duchess back her fallen fan, warm still:

a fan — just now obedient to his will —

he'd seen her drop. When no one came to stand

beside him in the window (where the park

went wisping by, out in the dream-like dark,

when it would show itself sometimes, a ghost),

he sauntered toward the cards and made his mark:

he never left; he never lost.

He held the gaze of everyone inspecting

him in a doting or a doubting way,

straight on, or at what mirrors were reflecting.

He had decided not to sleep today,

just like last night, and so he turned each stare

away with his gaze — neither love nor scorn,

but more as if he had, oh, children born

of roses someone's raising, off somewhere.

II.

In those days — no, they were not days — and as

the waters fought him (who would own

his deepest dungeon, just as if it was

not his?), against its vaults he rose,

where seas were used to crash against the stone.

Suddenly, he recalled again a name,

one that he'd carried back in times gone by.

Again he realized that when they came

back to his lure, such lives would fly

kamen sie noch warme Leben Toter,

die er, ungeduldiger, bedrohter,

weiterlebte mitten drin;

oder die nicht ausgelebten Leben,

und er wußte sie hinaufzuheben,

und sie hatten wieder Sinn.

Oft war keine Stelle an ihm sicher,

und er zitterte: Ich bin — — —

doch im nächsten Augenblicke glich er

dem Geliebten einer Königin.

Immer wieder war ein Sein zu haben:

die Geschicke angefangner Knaben,

die, als hätte man sie nicht gewagt,

abgebrochen waren, abgesagt,

nahm er auf und riß sie in sich hin;

denn er mußte einmal nur die Gruft

solcher Aufgegebener durchschreiten,

und die Düfte ihrer Möglichkeiten

lagen wieder in der Luft.