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Knows the wind and the sun, And goes hand in hand with the Seasons To follow and to listen. All the peace of Nature without people Comes to sit by my side. But I remain sad like a sunset
But my sadness is calm Because it is natural and right And is what there should be in the soul When it is thinking it exists And the hands are picking flowers without noticing which.
I have no ambitions or wants. To be a poet is no ambition of mine. It is my way of staying alone.
In the cities life is smaller Than here at my home upon the crest of this hill. In the city the houses shut the view and lock it, Hide the horizon, push our gaze far away from all the sky, Make us small because they take away from us what our eyes can give us, And make us poor because our only wealth is to see.
Beauty is the name of something that does not exist Which I give to things in exchange for the pleasure they give me. It signifies nothing. And yet why do I say of things: they are beautiful? Yes, even I, who live only by living, Am caught up invisibly in the lies of men About things, About things which simply exist. How difficult to be just oneself and not see anything but the visible!
To be great, be entire: of what’s yours nothing Exaggerate or exclude. Be whole in each thing. Put all that you are Into the least you do. Like that on each place the whole moon Shines, for she lives aloft.
I want – unknown, and calm Because unknown, and my own Because calm – to fill my days With wanting no more than them.
To those for whom happiness is Their sun, night comes round. But to one who hopes for nothing All that comes is grateful.
I have more souls than one. There are more ‘I’s than myself. And still I exist Indifferent to all. I silence them: I speak.
I am nothing. Never shall be anything. Cannot will to be anything. This apart, I have in me all the dreams of the world.
The world is for the person who is born to conquer it, And not for the one who dreams he can conquer it, even if he be right.
