In all ages, always, everywhere, and everywhere
It repeats itself, that cruel dream—
The inexplicable kiss of Judas
And the ring of the accursed silver.
To understand such things is a task in vain.
Humanity conjectures once again:
Let him betray (when he cannot do else),
But why a kiss on the lips? …
I must read only children’s books,
Cherish only children’s thoughts,
Scatter all big things far and wide,
Rise up from the deep-rooted sadness.
I’m weary to death of life,
And accept nothing from it,
But I love my unfortunate land
Because I’ve not seen any other.
In a far-off garden I swung
On a simple wooden swing,
And the tall somber fir trees
I recall in misty delirium.