she woke up
winter's only flower.
In Death and Night
dreamed the mute
Messenger of Spring
of light and life.
How they rise
all the sprouting spikes,
scared of heaven
straighten up trembling!
but above
the sun is sleeping.
Rough through the land the storms rage,
laugh coldly of the simple
timidly striving tender ones,
howl a song of war and strife:
Only the strong, tough
praises the dance
the iron age!
Scentless incline
the white pure
shy heads
to earth again
renouncing down
and cry
himself to the grave himself.
But no less
you lonely flower
comforts your bloom
the human children.
Nothing is in vain
your little effort:
everything of life
roar and glow,
that spring sends us
you feel it coming!
Look with new faith
on his way
waves your greetings to him,
restless wandering man.
germinates trembling in him too
some louder flower
from the dark bottom of the heart,
that must wither
before the others
sure striving,
more powerful driving
roots stir: Aim!
