Nebelland

In winter is my beloved
among the animals of the forest.
That I have to go back before morning
the vixen knows and laughs.
How the clouds tremble! And me
falls on the snow collar
a layer of brittle ice.

In winter is my beloved
a tree among trees and invites
the lucky crows
one in her beautiful branches. She knows,
that the wind at dawn
her rigid, frosted
evening dress lifts and haunts me.

In winter is my beloved
among the fish and dumb.
Belong to the waters that line the line
moves her fins from within,
I stand on the shore and see
until clods drive me away
how she dives and turns.

And again from the hunting call of the bird
hit his wings
stiffens over me, I fall
on an open field: she defeathers
the chickens and throws me a white one
collarbone too. I take it around my neck
and go away through the bitter fluff.

Faithless is my beloved,
I know she levitates sometimes
on high shoes to the city,
she kisses with the straw in the bars
the glasses low on the mouth,
and words come to her for all.
But I don't understand this language.

I saw foggy land
I ate Mistheart.