I WALKED through the mountains today. The weather was damp, and the entire region was gray. But the road was soft and in places very clean. At first I had my coat on; soon, however, I pulled it off, folded it together, and laid it over my arm. The walk on the wonderful road gave me more and more pleasure; first it went up, then straight down again. The mountains were huge, they seemed to go around. The whole mountainous world appeared to me like an enormous theater. The road snuggled up splendidly to the mountain-sides. Then I came down into a deep ravine, a river roared at my feet, a train rushed past me with magnificent white smoke. The road went through the ravine like a smooth white stream, and as I walked on, to me it was as if the narrow valley were bending and winding around itself. Gray clouds lay on the mountains as though they were resting there. I met a young journeyman with a rucksack on his back who asked if I had seen two other young fellows. No, I said. Had I come here from very far? Yes, I said, and continued on my way. Not a long time, and I saw and heard the two young wanderers pass by playing music. A village was especially beautiful with humble dwellings set thickly under the white rock face. I encountered a few carts, otherwise nothing, and I had seen some children on the country lane. We don’t need to see anything out of the ordinary. We already see so much.
(1914)