As a White Stone

As a white stone in the well's cool deepness,

There lays in me one wonderful remembrance.

I am not able and don't want to miss this:

It is my torture and my utter gladness.

I think, that he whose look will be

Into my eyes, at once will see it whole.

He will become more thoughtful and

Than someone, hearing a story of a dole.

I knew: the gods turned once, in their madness,

Men into things, not killing humane senses.

You've been turned in to my

To make eternal the unearthly sadness.