Extreme force with its dominator’s stave
Has sent me to a world that by coercion is gripped.-
Now don’t bother me! Leave me in my grave!
The storm is past, my wings have been clipped.-
A small bird sings quite soft to me:
“Why behind these walls all day
Do you want your happiness to waste away?
Come with me for a journey!
Beyond the house buzzed a little bee,
And in through a little window it sought
Sweet nectar from a flowering bush or tree.
Now the little bee is caught.
I am not me, you are not you.
The world plunges into flame.
When it collapses fully through,
It meets in me not me nor my name.
I lie within my cell since night,
Still caught in deeply sleeping pose
While brightness of the sun’s light
Approaches on its toes.
This toiling at tasks that remain to be done,
this trudging as if bound, in a heavy way,
is like the ungainly gait of the swan.
Center of all centers, of all seeds the seed,
almond wrapped in itself to grow sweet,-
to all of the stars this is what you feed
and is your fruit’s flesh: It is you I greet.
Look, you sense nothing more needs your care;
In the infinite is where to find your fruit’s skin
Oh, if only I knew for whom I play
I could always give voice to what rushing brooks say.
If I could but sense whether dead children found
any joy in hearing my inner star’s sound
If girls who are gone could both waft and hear
around me when the evening wind is near.
If I could silently stroke through dead hair
of a person once wracked with fury and care…
How shall I keep my soul from
Brushing against yours? How shall I
Lift it past you toward any other thing?