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You, you only, exist.
We pass away, till at last,
our passing is so immense
that you arise: beautiful moment,
in all your suddenness,
arising in love, or enchanted
in the contraction of work.

To you I belong, however time may
wear me away. From you to you
I go commanded. In between
the garland is hanging in chance; but if you
take it up and up and up: look:
all becomes festival!


Translated by Stephen Mitchell

Added: 2 Mar 2002 | Last Read: 8 Sep 2008 2:24 AM | Viewed: 5032 times

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