Only on me, the lonely one, <br />The unending stars of the night shine, <br />The stone fountain whispers its magic song, <br />To me alone, to me the lonely one <br />The colorful shadows of the wandering clouds <br />Move like dreams over the open countryside. <br />Neither house nor farmland, <br />Neither forest nor hunting privilege is given to me, <br />What is mine belongs to no one, <br />The plunging brook behind the veil of the woods, <br />The frightening sea, <br />The bird whir of children at play, <br />The weeping and singing, lonely in the evening, of a man secretly in love. <br />The temples of the gods are mine also, and mine <br />the aristocratic groves of the past. <br />And no less, the luminous <br />Vault of heaven in the future is my home: <br />Often in full flight of longing my soul storms upward, <br />To gaze on the future of blessed men, <br />Love, overcoming the law, love from people to people. <br />I find them all again, nobly transformed: <br />Farmer, king, tradesman, busy sailors, <br />Shepherd and gardener, all of them <br />Gratefully celebrate the festival of the future world. <br />Only the poet is missing, <br />The lonely one who looks on, <br />The bearer of human longing, the pale image <br />Of whom the future, the fulfillment of the world <br />Has no further need. Many garlands <br />Wilt on his grave, <br />But no one remembers him. <br /> <br /> <br />1911<br /><br />Hermann Hesse<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-poet/
