Which at night becomes a dream
And dissolves into nothing
And there is a poem
Written from where we are now
Which opens up the sky later in the day
And reveals all beauty to us
And there is no poem and never a poem and nothing a poem
And always a poem empty as we ultimately are
For in the light and in the distance and in the beauty
There are only our eyes and our longing
And they too dream to sleep
As we always one day will.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
absolute beauty of thought in this poem!