 | |
| |
| Not I, not I, but the wind that blows through me! |
| A fine wind is blowing the new direction of Time. |
| If only I let it bear me, carry me, if only it carry me! |
| If only I am sensitive, subtle, oh, delicate, a winged gift! |
| 5 | If only, most lovely of all, I yield myself and am borrowed |
| By the fine, fine wind that takes its course through the chaos of the world |
| Like a fine, an exquisite chisel, a wedge-blade inserted; |
| If only I am keen and hard like the sheer tip of a wedge |
| Driven by invisible blows, |
| 10 | The rock will split, we shall come at the wonder, we shall find the Hesperides. |
| |
| Oh, for the wonder that bubbles into my soul, |
| I would be a good fountain, a good well-head, |
| Would blur no whisper, spoil no expression. |
| |
| What is the knocking? |
| 15 | What is the knocking at the door in the night? |
| It is somebody wants to do us harm. |
| |
| No, no, it is the three strange angels. |
| Admit them, admit them |
