Without you

By
My pillow looks at me at night
Void as a graveyard stone;
It’s much more bitter than I thought,
To be alone
And in your hair no longer lying down!

I lie alone in a still house,
The lamp already dim,
And gently stretch my hands right out,
To circle yours in mine,
And quietly press my ardent mouth
To you and weak, sore, kiss myself -
And suddenly I’m wide awake
And in the night hear no one speak,
Through the window the star shines clear -
Oh where are you with your blonde hair,
Oh where is your sweet mouth?

Now I drink pain in every joy
Poison in every wine;
It’s much more bitter than I knew,
To be alone,
To be without you, all alone!

Ohne dich 
Hermann Hesse, 1913

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