The language with which I make my poems has nothing to do with one spoken here, or anywhere.
Death is a master from Germany.
He speaks truly who speaks the shade.
rush of pine scent (once upon a time), the unlicensed conviction there ought to be another way of saying this.
in the air, there your root remains, there, in the air
We are told that when Hölderlin went 'mad,' he constantly repeated, 'Nothing is happening to me, nothing is happening to me.'