Poetry Tuesday: Traveller’s Song

By Hugo von Hofmannsthal

Water pours down in order to swallow us.
Rocks are rolling to smash us.
Shortly on their powerful wings
Birds will come to carry us off.

However beneath us there is a country;
Fruit is always reflected
In its ageless waters.

Marble foreheads and lips of springs
Rise from the flowery acres,
And the easy winds blow.

;o)

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