On the warm grass enclosed now
by dull light and silence
your thoughts have fallen. Only
one bird that will insist on jabbering
breaks what calm
has come over you.
All worries, pains, all things that
you owned and were broken by
are reduced to this impassiveness.
For long now no one has brought
giant sorrows; small worries vanish,
spill out from you.
How quiet it is possible to grow!
Then why this want, this reaching out;
why the regrets then? The outgoing song?