Der Auszug des verlorenen Sohnes

NOW to go away from all that is tangled,

that is ours and yet does not belong to us,

that, like the water in the old wells,

mirrors us tremblingly and destroys the image;

from all of this, which as if with thorns

clings to us once more—to go away

and this thing and that man,

which one no longer even saw

(so daily were they and so ordinary),

all at once to look upon: gentle, conciliatory

and as at a beginning and from close by

and, sensing it, to grasp how impersonally,

how over everyone the sorrow came to pass,

with which childhood was full up to the brim—:

And then to go away nonetheless, hand out of hand,

as though one tore open afresh a thing once healed,

and to go away: where to? Into the uncertain,

far into an unrelated, warm land,

which behind all one's doings, like stage scenery,

will be indifferent: garden or wall;

and to go away: why? Out of urge, out of nature,

out of impatience, out of dark expectation,

out of incomprehensibility and want of understanding:

To take all this upon oneself, and in vain

perhaps to let fall what was held fast, in order

to die alone, not knowing why—