Home by Friedrich Hölderlin

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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

Well-known

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.