O Christ and God, I thirst for a miracle

At this day’s dawn. Now, let such be!

O let me die while all existence

Is opening like a book for me.

You’re wise. You will not say severely:

‘Be calm. Your time is not yet up!’

You Yourself gave to me, O, too much!

I thirst for all roads—in one cup.

I want all things: the soul of gypsies—

To walk with songs and rob someone.

To hurt for all midst organ-playing.

To rush to war—an Amazon.

To read the stars from some black tower.

To lead small children through the lane …

So yesterday would be a legend,

So every day would be insane!

I like a cross and silks and helmets.

My soul’s a trace of moments seen …

You gave me youth—fairer than fable,

So give me death—at seventeen!