Classic Poem

I

From this cloud, see: the the star
obscured so wild landscape painter who was just (and me)
from this mountain country over there, which now,
Night winds has for eme-time (and me)
from this river in the valley, the Shem the
zerrissner sky-clearing begins (and me);
from me and all this only one thing
to make Lord of me and the feeling
with the herd, has returned in the pen,
the large dark Nichtmehrsein the world
exhaling accepts, me, and any light
in Finstersein of the many houses, Lord:
to make a thing, from the stranger, for
not a I know, Lord, and me and me
one thing to do; from the sleeper,
the strange old men in the hospice,
the importance of cough in the beds, from
schlaftrunknen children in so strange a chest,
from many Ungenaun and always me
of nothing but me and what I do not know,
to make the thing, Lord, Lord, Lord, that thing,
the worldly-ground like a meteor
in its severity the sum of flight
together takes: nothing harmful than arrival date.

II

Why must one go and strange things
so take upon himself as perhaps the carrier
the stranger more and more filled market basket
lifts from stand to stand and loaded pursues
and can not say, 'Lord, what the banquet?

Why do you have a stand there as a shepherd,
so exposed to the excess of influence,
so involved in this room full operation,
that he leaned against a tree in the landscape
his fate would have to act without more.
And has not in too great look
the silent mitigate the flock. Has
nothing but the world, the world has in every upward gaze,
in every tilt world. He penetrates what other
wanted to hear, inhospitable as music
and blindly into the blood and converts over itself.

As he stands up at night and has a reputation
the bird out there already in his existence
and feels bold, because he all the stars
takes in his face, hard, o not as one
the lover prepares this night
and they spoiled with the felt skies.

III

That me, when I return to the cities Gedrang
and intricate Lärmknäul and the
Confusion of the vehicle around me have, individually,
that me through the dense Gear Unit
Sky and remembered the earthy mountain edge,
the other side of the herd walked homeward.
Rocky was me courage to
and the daily task of the shepherd seemed to me possible,
as he goes along and throw tans and with measuring stone
his flock trimmed where they fray himself.
Slow steps, not easy, thoughtful body,
but Stehn he is gorgeous. Still probably a God
secretly into this shape and would be no less so.
He alternately bored and pulls, like myself, the day
and shadows of the clouds
pass through him, as was thinking of space
start thinking for him.

Let he who is always there for you. As the windy night light
in the shell of the lamp, I place myself inside him.
A bill is quiet. Death
would find their way pure.