contemporary poetry

how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
you are my companion
it was the autumn of the year
the rain was over, and the brilliant air
shines the last age, the next with hope is seen
along a river-side
when night drifts along the streets of the city
in an old chamber softly lit
be not false
in the cloud-gray mornings
mysterious night
be not angry with me
just as my fingers on these keys
as a naked man i go