Is all this now ... illusory flowers,
Fuzzy colours of the bright summer meadow,
Soft blue stretches of heaven, some bee song,
Is all this now really a god’s
Groaning dreaming,
Some unconscious power’s crying for release?
The far-off line of mountains,
Fine and bold resting in the blue,
Is that too just a cramp,
Just a mad tension in seething nature,
Just grief, just pain, just a pointless testing,
Never resting, never in joyful movement?
Oh, no! Release me now, you monstrous dream
Of the world’s strain!
A midges’ dance in evening light rocks you,
And a bird’s cry rocks you,
A breath of wind cools my forehead
With affection.
Release me now, you primal human grief!
Let all be pain,
Yes, let all be strain and shadows -
But not this one sweet hour of life in the sunshine,
And not the scent of red clover,
And not the soft feeling of well-being
Deep within my soul.
Hermann Hesse, 1913 (translated by Scholar by the River)