Is this everything now, the quick delusions of flowers, <br />And the down colors of the bright summer meadow, <br />The soft blue spread of heaven, the bees' song, <br />Is this everything only a god's <br />Groaning dream, <br />The cry of unconscious powers for deliverance? <br />The distant line of the mountain, <br />That beautifully and courageously rests in the blue, <br />Is this too only a convulsion, <br />Only the wild strain of fermenting nature, <br />Only grief, only agony, only meaningless fumbling, <br />Never resting, never a blessed movement? <br />No! Leave me alone, you impure dream <br />Of the world in suffering! <br />The dance of tiny insects cradles you in an evening radiance, <br />The bird's cry cradles you, <br />A breath of wind cools my forehead <br />With consolation. <br />Leave me alone, you unendurably old human grief! <br />Let it all be pain. <br />Let it all be suffering, let it be wretched- <br />But not this one sweet hour in the summer, <br />And not the fragrance of the red clover, <br />And not the deep tender pleasure <br />In my soul. <br /> <br /> <br />Translated by James Wright <br /> <br /> <br />Submitted by Holt<br /><br />Hermann Hesse<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lying-in-grass/
