I'm listening rather lively Hungarian music and I feel as if the Dancing devil in me.
The devil has long, thin legs, which he elegantly swirled through the air in his acrobatic dance.
He looks like a woman with flowing hair and wild eyes shining. With a boisterous laugh, he throws the head back, the emaciated hips swing on which rest the matchstick thin arms.
Lasziv, alive, wild and full of life.
a fire burning in me that wants to be this woman, this devil. Our own best friend!
But the fire may still burn so hot it burns to water. Quiet, quiet water. Reasonable, low water. Far too good-natured Water. The water is so deep that I wonder if the flame ever be able to penetrate so deep.
fire and water do not have it before. And that makes me curse an unbalanced man.
I can neither hot nor cold, nothing left to right. I am suspended between two poles, like a fly in a spider web. I fidgety. And fidgety. And fidgety. And come, but not let go.
And the devil, the beautiful, dancing and laughs.
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