Let’s bleed in yellow and in red
take this couch for a gentle bed
and dream of songs and sounds
whispering in your eye, that counts
For all the blood that’s been shed
over all this shivering shy sonnet
touching new and ancient wounds
and woes, that stick to all that blooms
Like sweeter singing nouns
that have been fostered, fed
on your own account, and found
Loosening your cruel corselet
and precious peering rounds
praying like an anitique amulet.
Max Beckmann, Frau mit Mandoline in Gelb und Rot, 1950
