Poem 257 – One

One never loves women or men after all, but rather one quite distinct woman or one man

Edwin Bab, Der Eigene

A blur of faces passes by,
None particularly clear,
Just whirling blurs in the grey city life,
Though half are male, and the others not.
Among these crowds I see none I care for,
There is nothing here but monotony
Until I see, far away,
The one in the greyness who brings new light to me.
Only this person, only this love,
None other than my colours, as the city passes on.


Dear readers,

I found the title quote while researching sexuality around 1900 for an essay. Der Eigene was a homophile magazine of the period, and Bab argued that really, there was no way to tell if a heterosexual might, the next time, fall for a man. Were this point of view more widespread, I know a number of people whose lives might have been somewhat easier.

Kind regards,

The Hapless Neo-Romantic


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