Flower myth, 1918 – Paul Klee
A rosebloom I give you as a gift. It has whorls
red, rich, complex, compound
like the unspeakable hope that my flesh
as well as my deep spirit requires
This rosebloom I give you as a gift. Feel its taste:
the same of my warm blood, the same colour.
It has the scent of all my desire
that your glance upsets and fiercely stokes
Get the bloom: it’s my gift for your love.
Then myself I’ll be gift, restless matter
delicate with petals and thorns
which defends both my shame and frail marrow
A rosebloom is my gift: I give you it.
You breathe it, kiss, caress, enjoy it
This my present that is me, my question.
My rose I give you helpless tonight
May, 3rd 2017