Tuesday, 31 May 2011

Home by Friedrich Hölderlin


And nobody knows

Let me walk meanwhile
And pick wild berries
To quench my love of the earth
On her paths

Here where –
                        and the thorns of roses
And lime trees scenting sweetly by
The beeches, at noon, when in the dun cornfield
Growth rustles through the straight stalks
And the corn bows sideways at the neck
Like autumn, but now beneath the high
Vault of the oaks where I wonder
And ask upward the bell
Strikes from a distance, golden notes, at the hour
When the birds wake again. Wellbeing.

Friedrich Hölderlin, Selected Poems, trans. by David Constantine (Newcastle upon Tyne: Bloodaxe Books, 1996), 75.

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