by Ludwig Bendix
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!
“Oh little titmouse dear!
The world bricked up is not so free!
My house is bolted against me.
Sing your sweet tune so near
And give to evening peace your praise,
A peace which after storms abate
Sinks even through my metal grate
To seal my dark fate with its rays.”
translated by Erik Bendix