Will wear down the sill of their door a little-Īnd those who will come after. Should share in their shudder of ecstasy? When it urges two lovers on, that all of creation Themselves never hoped to exist so intensely. To say them in such a way that even the things Pillar, tower? But to say them, you understand. Perhaps, merely to say: house, bridge, fountain, To anyone, but rather some acquired word, pure,Ī blue and yellow gentian. Only the completely indescribable things.īut later, under the stars-what good would it doĪ handful of earth, which would explain nothing Which we learn here so slowly, and not anything What can be taken across? Not the ability to see, To give it to? True, we'd rather keep it all Our already crowded eyes, our dumbfounded hearts. And yetĪnd so we keep going, trying to achieve it, Seem to need us, to put themselves in our care The things of this world, these passing things, The laurel tree could have done all that.īut because just being here matters, because Not to experience wonder or to exercise the heart. With tiny curves at the edge of every leafĭenying our destiny, we still long for it?Ĭertainly not because happiness really exists, Why-when we might have been laurel trees,Ī little darker than all the other greens,
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