All Deaths
I’ve already died all deaths,
I’m going to die all deaths again,
Die the wooden death in the tree,
Die the stone death in the mountain,
The earthen death in the sand,
The peeling death in the crackling summer grass,
And the poor bloody human death.
I want to be born again as a flower,
I want to be born again as a tree, as grass,
Fish and deer, bird and butterfly,
And from every shape
Longing will drag me up the stairs
To the last suffering,
Up to the sufferings of mankind.
Oh, trembling tense bow,
When the furious fist of longing
Orders both poles of life
To bend towards each other!
Often, over and over again,
You will chase me from death to birth
On the painful path of creation,
The magnificent succession of creation.
Childhood
You are my distant valley,
Enchanted and submerged.
Often you have me in distress and agony,
Waved up out of your shadowland
And opened your fairy-tale eyes
That I will be delighted in a short time,
Lost myself back to you.
O dark gate,
O dark hour of death,
You emerge, that I may recover,
And from this empty life
I may return home to my dreams.