In Der Palästra

As through the pipes the waters fell
Down to the bottom of the well
In listless apathy I gazed
At the cold waters as he bathed

I half beheld that scenery
And it's most sensual masculinity
Yet, disappointment, oh, can't you see?
Is still the cause and the cardinal symptom of my sick, sad reality

Silver equals chill
But that suits me just fine
I'm shyly sipping water
While he drinks whole jugs of wine
He likes all kind of women
And I, I only hate men
He marvels at all things new to him
And I only wait for all things
In this sick world to end

The water pouring down his spine
Caressed his strong physique, oh, so well-defined
Calm like a rock he stands, oh, behold his beautiful body and soul
A friendly God must have built this man to an all well-balanced whole

What sad bewilderment this brought
Physical clearness, alas, still so much abhorred:
An ancient ghost awoke and fiercely arose in me:
It was that old, savage, yet half-forgotten ideal of perfect neutrality

Silver equals chill
But that suits me just fine
I'm shyly sipping water
While he drinks whole jugs of wine
He likes all kind of women
And I, I only hate men
He marvels at all things new to him
And I only wait for all things
In this sick world to end

I somewhat envy this naturally beautiful man
He never knew or encountered the hatred and shame that I bare
The doubt, the cloak of disgust and the all-devouring dread
And if I told him about it, he might only shake his head
With kindly amused, melodious laughter, je then would perhaps merely smile
At my oh, so stupid silliness and the beast that is raging inside