April By Goethe




Eyes tell, tell me, what you tell me,

Telling something all too sweet,

Making music out of beauty,

With a question hidden deep.


Still I think I know your meaning,

There behind your pupils’ brightness,

Love and truth are your heart’s lightness,

That, instead of its own gleaming,


Would so truly like to greet,

In a world of dullness, blindness,

One true look of human kindness,

Where two kindred spirits meet.


And since I’m lost, in what entrances,

Studying those mysteries,

Eyes, may you be drawn to see,

The intention in my glances!


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