in teh torkie

Every body asks:




«What hides in the ambiguous murmuring of water?




«What hides in the attractive humming of leaves?








«What hides in the play of thet white cloud,




Above this calm lofty Blue,




Carring thou thus into the deep of fantasy?







«What hides in the silent solitude of doves?




«What hides in the useless struggle of waves?





«What hides in the smile of goblet?




That you are so astonished to gaze




For hours?»







- Not of cloud,




Not of water,




Not of leaves,







Not of this calm lofty Blue,




Not of this burning fire inside the goblet,




Not of this silent soiltude of doves;





Not of these do I think!






The tree silent praying at dawn,




The perfume of winter flowers dancing with wind,






The poppy breathing purely within the bosom of mount,




The swallows talking with the morn,






Existence beating immortal in the wheat paddy,




Playing colour and freshness upon the cheeks of flower,





All I see and hear!






Not of these do I think!




Of you do I think!




Of you – all over goodness,




Of you alone do I think!







Every time,




Every place,




In whatever state, of you do I think!






You Know this




Only you know this





Come




Stay with me, stay you alone.






Shine upon dark nights for the moonlight!




Maybe I die to you but smile for every flowers!




Now that I have fallen upon your feet.




Make that long tress a piece of rope,




Only you seize me!




Only you tie me!




Only you desire me!




Answer the swallows.




Narrate the tale of clouds!







Stay with me, stay you alone!




Boil inside the heart of lifes goblet!





Only one drop of my life remains,


Drink up the last drop of this empty goblet