The wind stirred up the surface of the street
And rain strikes like a cloud of recollection
To pass by, to return—and always to love
In anger, distress, paucity, vexation.
It is almost noon. If I overflow my banks
Flooding the street, the village, the town
Please don’t lose me, all my lives, all my deaths.
Time is melting down; please don’t let me drown.
Now yearnings are high above the mountain.
And the quiet is a bird tearing through clouds.
In the barred town only eternity remains
Moaning consolation, healing stones.
And it’s very cold in town, it’s wet and not from tears
Yearnings, like a human herd, are bleating in the lanes.
And once again my Lord, from wailing to failing
You rise in me alive, like a firebrand from the ruins.