weeps over me.
Whoever now laughs somewhere in the night,
laughs without reason in the night,
laughs at me.
Whoever now wanders somewhere in the world,
wanders without reason out in the world,
wanders toward me.
Whoever now dies somewhere in the world,
dies without reason in the world,
looks at me.
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That’s my window. This minute
From sleep–was still floating in it.Where has my life its limitAnd where begins the night?I could fancy all things around meWere nothing but I as yet;Like a crystal’s depth, profoundlyMute, translucent, unlit.I have space to spare inside meFor the stars, too: so full of roomFeels my heart; so lightlyWould it let go of him, whomFor…
As on all its sides a kitchen-match darts white
with the audience around her, quickened, hot,her dance begins to flicker in the dark room.And all at once it is completely fire.One upward glance and she ignites her hairand, whirling faster and faster, fans her dressinto passionate flames, till it becomes a furnacefrom which, like startled rattlesnakes, the longnaked arms uncoil, aroused and clicking.And then:…
Lord, it is time. This was a very big summer.
and let the winds loose on the fields.Command the last fruits to be full;give them two more sunny days,urge them on to fulfillment and throwthe last sweetness into the heavy wine.Who has no house now, will never build one.Whoever is alone now, will long remain so,Will watch, read, write long lettersand will wander in the…
I have great faith in all things not yet spoken.
What no one yet has dared to risk and warrantwill be for me a challenge I must meet.If this presumptious seems, God, may I be forgiven.For what I want to say to you is this:my efforts shall be like a driving force,quite without anger, without timidnessas little children show their love for you.With these outflowing,…
They are assembled, astonished and disturbed
and now leaves those to whom he most belonged,leaving and passing by them like a stranger.The loneliness of old comes over himwhich helped mature him for his deepest acts;now will he once again walk through the olive grove,and those who love him still will flee before his sight.To this last supper he has summoned them,and…
This laboring of ours with all that remains undone,
is like the lumbering gait of the swan.And then our dying—releasing ourselvesfrom the very ground on which we stood—is like the way he hesitantly lowers himselfinto the water. It gently receives him,and, gladly yielding, flows back beneath him,as wave follows wave,while he, now wholly serene and sure,with regal composure,allows himself to glide.translation by Joanna Macy…