Short Poems

Case 19)
X., peasant, aged thirty-four and a half; Sun-Worshipper. Father and Mother were hard drinkers. Since his fifth year patient has had epileptic convulsions-i.e. he falls down unconscious, lies still two or three minutes, and then gets up and runs directly with staring eyes towards the Sun. Sexuality was first manifested at seventeen. The patient had inclinations neither for women nor for men, but for constellations (stars, moons, suns et cetera). He had intercourse with stars and moons and later with comets and suns. Never any onanism.

Proud word you never spoke, but you will speak
Four not exempt from pride some future day.
Resting on one white hand a warm wet cheek,
Over my open volume you will say,
'This man loved me'—then rise and trip away.

That thou mayst injure no man, dove-like be,
And serpent-like, that none may injure thee!

I know not, wherefore, dearest love,

Thou often art so strange and coy
When 'mongst man's busy haunts we move,

Thy coldness puts to flight my joy.
But soon as night and silence round us reign,
I know thee by thy kisses sweet again!

Sleep no more, it’s time to wake,
Close is parting time, provisions ye take,
The passenger sojourns there, after the death,
Horrible is grave, in it’s very make.

Look out how you use proud words.
When you let proud words go, it is not easy to call them back.
They wear long boots, hard boots; they walk off proud; they can't hear you calling--
Look out how you use proud words.

Det er ej stort, hvad vi fortæller her,
og ikke nyt og overmaade sælsomt.
Den bedste Daare bli'r med Tiden tvær,
og grønne Indfald voxer ej paa Træ'r.
Skærsommeræventyret skifter Scene,
og Slanger hænger ned fra Edens Grene.

We should not speak of one that prospers well
As happy, till his life have run its course,
And reached its goal. An evil spirit's gift
In shortest time has oft laid low the state
Of one full rich in great prosperity,
When the change comes, and so the Gods appoint.

Because your eyes are slant and slow,
Because your hair is sweet to touch,
My heart is high again; but oh,
I doubt if this will get me much.

There is a rainbow in the sky,
Upon the arch where tempests trod;
God wrote it ere the world was dry--
It is the autograph of God.