Oh, how many of them fell into this abyss,
Openess far in the distance!
The day will come when I am gone
From the surface of the earth.
Stiffen all that singing and struggle,
Shine and burst.
And the green of my eyes, and gentle voice,
And the gold hair.
And there is life with its daily bread,
With forgetfulness of the day.
And it was all—as would be under heaven
And there was no me!
Changeable, like children are, each mine,
And as long as there is evil,
We love the hour when the wood in the fireplace
Turns to ashes.
A cello, and often a procession,
And the bell in the village …
—I, so lively and present
On this gentle earth!
To all of you—I, who knows no measure,
Strangers and all?!—
I appeal for faith
And ask for love.
And day and night, in writing and talking:
In truth, yes and no,
Because I do that so often—very sadly
And I am only twenty
Therefore I ask straight for—
Forgiveness of all injuries,
Caused by my unrestrained affection
And a too proud appearance,
For a speedy improvement,
In truth, in a game …
—Listen!—Would someone love me—
For that would I die.