Yes, I have slain, and taken moving life <br />From bodies. Yea! And laughed upon the taking; <br />And, having slain, have whetted still the knife <br />For more and more, and heeded not the making <br />Of things that I was killing. Such 'twas then! <br />But now the thirst so hideous has left me. <br />I live within a coolness, among calm men, <br />And yet am strange. A something has bereft me <br />Of a seeing, and strangely love returns; <br />And old desires half-known, and hanging sorrows. <br />I seem agaze with wonder. Memory burns. <br />I see a thousand vague and sad tomorrows. <br />None sees my sadness. No one understands <br />How I must touch her hair with bloody hands.<br /><br />Leon Gellert<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-husband-2/
