Unbolt the wind to me! Brag I with audacious pride But that first gust of him Makes me stumble and shrink My barque is covered up With leaves and windfall-pears His heaven azures me And his earth is cushioning
The warming of his wine And the sighing of his fire His honeys bitterness Are reviving me Expose me to the storms And leave me to despair But once his cold will die In my ardent embrace (K.-U. Skerra)