break up poem

when the hours of day are numbered
and my name is truthful
as a white candle
gaily through the fields we danced
a poet, having taken the bridle off his tongue
up and down he goes
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor
tell me less or tell me more
in the cloud-gray mornings
and with the humming bird
this is the ship of pearl
out of the sparkling sea
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
my mother taught me that every night