My Angel My angel, I am not worthy — Neither by night, nor day’s bright glory. All I boasted was empty, vain, But you — do not leave me in pain! Stronger than all is feeling’s sixth, Like the jig of rain and fire’s mix: My angel, I am not worthy, true, But do not leave me — stay in view! Life and death I meet standing, still, Not exalting, not cursing, by will… My angel, I am not worthy, yet, Do not abandon me, I beg you, yet! For a Last Drink Hosts! One last drink — for wine! All was delicious, proper, fine. I do not look: kiss as you please… Ah yes! I’m glad that you — his spouse with ease. Though this speech may seem absurd, And my role, plainly, is misplaced word, Do not explain — I know, in truth, But I drink the cup, as is the custom, to the tooth. And now? One last drink? Wine again? No. A smoke first — by the windowpane. What’s strange? I drank a little, sure. Such times occur, of that I’m sure. Yet the cup must be drunk to the last, To ...