xix. liebesbrief

To a dearest reader to whom I hope these words can reach,

Now that long gone are the days, I decided to write thee a letter, fed up with all the mournful ballads I burned. As this is no poem, I fervently hope that no lyric is lost among my dismal words. The morning dew onetime told me that once a soul hath fully lived, it breaks into seven little pieces. Two kindred souls are but two of these encountered in later lives, feeling such a deep bond that no words do justice to this profound kinship. I know little, even nothing, I would dare say, but there is just one truth in which I have blind faith: it is in Thou that I found one. It is thy name that resonates with spring breezes or the autumn-falling rain; in every blossom, I see thy beauty and in every petal thy gaze: the door to Eden, a glimpse of Heaven. No martyr has suffered as much as me, whose soul slowly grows cold by not feeling the warmth of thine. They never got to kiss God. Dost thou still miss me? Since I do, most ardently.

As I looked into thine eyes for the first time, I recognised myself in them. I saw my reflection in moonlight-illuminated pupils of thine. Mayhaps we were once the soul of a sad former poet, as we both write blue verses and decadent stanzas. That is but another evidence of the literariness that surrounds our lives. It is poetry which builds our essences, our beings. Even in a quiet room adorned with Friedrich’s paintings, thou wert the most profound work of art, to which glance of mine was dragged by the fascination for thee that rocked my helpless soul. I live with the eternal yearning that our paths may come across again, as they did once in a burst of delightful fortune. In the meantime, I will be watering my garden, thinking about all the verses and stories I will narrate thee when unsere Seelen reencounter.

I hope thou heard my voice and echoes in reading these words, as thine fills charmingly my void.

Most tenderly,

-K

Imagen de la portada: The Love Letter, François Boucher (1750)