Hermann Hesse

Across the sky, the clouds move,
Across the fields, the wind,
Across the fields the lost
Of my mother wanders

How heavy the days are
There's not a fire that can warm me,
Not a sun to laugh with me,
Everything bare,

I walk so often, late, along the streets,
Lower my gaze, and hurry, full of dread,
Suddenly, silently, you still might
And I would have to gaze on all your

Graceful, spiritual,with the gentleness of arabesquesour life is similarto the existence of fairiesthat spin in soft cadencearound nothingnessto which we sacrificethe here and
Dreams of beauty, youthful joylike a breath in pure harmonywith th...

You brothers, who are mine,
Poor people, near and far,
Longing for every star,
Dream of relief from pain,

Is this everything now, the quick delusions of flowers,
And the down colors of the bright summer meadow,
The soft blue spread of heaven, the bees' song,
Is this everything only a

Don't be downcast, soon the night will come,
When we can see the cool moon laughing in
Over the faint countryside,
And we rest, hand in hand

As every flower fades and as all
Departs, so life at every stage,
So every virtue, so our grasp of truth,
Blooms in its day and may not last forever

Only on me, the lonely one,
The unending stars of the night shine,
The stone fountain whispers its magic song,
To me alone, to me the lonely

In this evil year, autumn comes early…I walk by night in the field, alone, the rain clatters,
The wind on my hat…And you
And you, my friend
You are standing—maybe—and seeing the sickle

My Pillow gazes upon me at
Empty as a gravestone;
I never thought it would be so
To be alone,