One more - 'Romantisch'

Romantic

Behind the waterfall, roaming across rustling fields,

crouched above liverwort, springing from cliffs

at springtide; you used to see them everywhere,

in every poem picturesque passers-by with their orations,

conversations, screams if need be. Lighter the days

in this sublunary world when poetry

hung roseate upon the branches, free

as a burgeoning Now that would grow real

in a reciprocity of words  –

yet stolidly as ever, ignominy and despair

lie in wait for us behind the trees.