Round Dance

Round dance — love sometimes stops

In quenching eyes,

And we look into her own

Eyes, already extinct.

 

Cold smoke from the crater

Breathes on our eyelashes;

The abysmal emptiness held

Its breath just once.

 

We have seen the dead eyes

And never forget.

Love lasts the longest but

Never recognizes us.  

 

 

                        Ingeborg Bachmann