My day was happy, fortunate my night.
My People loved me when I struck the
Of Poetry.
Passion was my song, and fire:
There it kindled many a lovely light.
My summer’s still ablaze but I’ve
Dragged to the barn the crop I brought to birth –And now I have to leave all that the
Made so dear to me and loved so dearly!
The instrument sinks from my hand.
The glass breaks in splinters, that to my
Overconfidently,
I so cheerfully pressed.
Oh God!
How deeply bitter dying is!
How sweet and intimate the life of Man,
In this sweet, intimate and earthly nest.
