The Panther
His gaze has from the passing by of bars
become so numb that it holds nothing more.
He feels as if there were a thousand bars
and beyond those thousand bars no world.
The sinuous gait of strong and supple strides
that turns the tightest, ever smallest round
is like a dance of strength around a centre
in which benumbed a greater will is bound.
Just sometimes quietly his pupils' veil
slides open. - Then a view can enter,
goes through the flexing silence of his limbs –
and ceases, deep inside his heart, to be.