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…
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