I look out as the dark breaks through the sky;
The first rays of the orange-yellow Sun,
Soft radiant fingers of warmth and light
Burst forth over the grey-green horizon.
The green of distant fields, and city trees,
The grey and red of rooves stretch far and wide,
But who can take delight in such as these
If there is no one standing at his side?
I study the spiderís web in the hedge
Which, silver strands weighed down, glisten with rain,
I hearken to the warbler in the sedge...
Things I can marvel at, but not explain.
As too the Moon, its penny disk alight
Bathing out world with cold, celestial fire,
But who can drink of song or colours bright
When his heart swells with unfulfilled desire?
I feel the juices of fruits on my tongue
Of many shapes and textures, sweet to taste,
But any satisfactions Iíd once wrung
From fruit and nectar have long gone to waste.
How should all men drown consciousness with praise,
And thanks for all the sensations they feel,
Rejoicing in the splendour of their days;
But loneliness makes all this seem unreal.
Life should be beautiful, such gifts revealed
For every man who has the eyes to see;
Life should be wonderful, but wonders yield
No fascinations for a wretch like me.
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