Strange violin, why do you follow me?

In how many foreign cities did you

speak of your lonely nights and those of mine.

Are you being played by hundreds? Or by one?

Do in all great cities men exist

who tormented and in deep despair

would have sought the river but for you?

And why does your playing always reach me?

Why is it that I am always neighbor

to those lost ones who are forced to sing

and to say: Life is infinitely heavier

than the heaviness of all things.