Ilse

  by: Frank Wedekind (1864-1918)

    translated by Baudelaire Jones


 

I was a child of fifteen,
A child of pure innocence,
When I first discovered
The sweet delights of love.

 

She took my body, laughing,
And whispered: "What luck!"
And laid her head back gently,
Gently on the sand.

 

Since that day, all I do,
Everything in life is beautiful;
And when her memory pleases me no more,
Then I will go happily to the grave.


   More poems by Frank Wedekind