Everywhere You Are

God, all the time You are, everywhere You, You suffice all… But I, with my wild stubbornness, with hunter’s old scent, look, in myself, for the lack-of-You: I’d like to see – in this body, this soul – where You are not and what just does lack You, as I am so sad that, like a path of a cloudy pass, am untrustworthy for my own folks… I feel how, from the moss-grown nothingness of the lack-of-You, there radiates the dead insect of my daydream with its dusty wings… From the threshold of the nonexistence there glitter my great lacks-of-You… Again, again, from thawed-out snow, fresh grass covers greenly fields and mountains; Again, again, from summertime, white winter dwellings are filled with yellow-breasted chicken… O God, in vain You’re searched in skies – You are my Earth, my old Country Seat… Countless times I have stepped on You to cleanse myself…