The clouds swirled into curls. Azure settled into the depth.
O, dear friend – my heart is ailing again –
O, dear brother – it’s crucified again –
My ailing heart is whistling like a swan.
The clouds swirled into curls...
The winds race stampeding! Poplars bend their harps...
Out of my soul – like lilies –
Growing beautiful – oh, so bright –
Out of my soul, regrets and sorrow grow like flowers.
The winds race stampeding!
The sun’s mood is mirrored on lakes. Smoke weaves about the past...
I want to be – how can I forget?
Do I want – a dark-haired beauty – again?
I want to be forever young, immutably young!
The sun’s mood is mirrored on lakes.
Laughter, bells, and warm joy. A rainbow of thoughts blooms...
Sorrow clenches my heart: – the sun! a song! –
In my soul I set you out – I praise you! –
In my soul I set out a bright sail, for sadness is in my heart.
Laughter, bells, and warm joy.
1917