Return

Now I am come again, you who have so desired My coming, why do you look away from me? Why does your cheek burn against me--have I inspired Such anger as sets your mouth unwontedly?

Ah, here I sit while you break the music beneath Your bow; for broken it is, and hurting to hear: Cease then from music--does anguish of absence bequeath Me only aloofness when I would draw near?