... ducks on a pond, A
grass bank beyond, A
blue sky of spring, White
clouds on the wing: What
a little thing To
remember for years – To
remember with tears!
freedom from the ten thousand ensnarements. I ask myself and always answer: What can be better than coming home? A wind from the pine-trees blows my sash, And my lute is bright with the mountain moon. You ask me about good and evil fortune? ... Hark, on the lake there’s a fisherman singing.