I thought that you were an anchor in the drift of the world;
but no: there isn’t an anchor anywhere.
There isn’t an anchor in the drift of the world. Oh no.
I thought you were. Oh no. The drift of the world.
The morning song is full,
it mirrors the emotion of
the world awakening;
it rises from the earth to the heavens
thanking God for the sunrise,
and the revelation of the countryside
when dawn has scarcely stripped its flowers over our heads,
and the brightness, having grown stronger little by little,
offers us the first fruits of morning,
still wet with dew.
On hearing the morning song,
there flutters suddenly within me
the love of this terrestrial realm,
giving new life to hopes and renewing the face of things… Augusto Frederico Schmidt
Man, free thinker! do you believe that you alone
think in this world where life bursts forth in everything?
Your freedom has power to use strength you possess,
but the universe is absent from all your councils.
In the beast respect an active soul:
every flower is a soul unfolded to Nature;
in metal sleeps a mystery of love;
,,Everything is sentient!’’ And everything has power over your being.
Fear a glance watching you in the blind wall:
a Word is connected even with matter. …
Do not make it serve some impious purpose!
Often in the dark being dwells a hidden God;
and, like an eye born covered by its lids,
a pure spirit grows beneath the surface of stones!
The sun grows steadily from its watered root
by reason of the ambrosia poured from her moon-bowl by Night
as by a gardener girl desiring a new garden,
in fact, the world.
As it grows from out its trench,
the Eastern Mountain’s ring of peaks,
red as fresh coral, may it bring you joy,
this first sprout of the tree of day.