Meeting

Standing beside the grave
With the morning sun glistening pink on the earth,
My soul bends down
Seeking your face,
And my senses swell and flood.

Confronting you,
Piercing the thick ground,
I let my eyes wander
To the rows of graves, hundreds of stones
In red earth, in thick grass,
Mossy wood and singing marble,

And like lightning it flashes in my heart:
So many sorrows well up,
So often sadness sluices tears
Onto the earth.
Oh, brother in white,
You’re not alone in the ground!

And my poor soul bends
To your feet:
Before you my sorrows and the sorrows of the world,
Misery clings to my heart.
I am dust in the air,
Blown by the wind.
A cool dew drops on my soul
And shines brightly in my eyes.