29
Jul20
He is alone - and the rain is whipping towards him
Brief, but peaceful and quiet infant, sweet age!
But - ah, he does not know the price of a serene child's days.
A young man in a storm of passions, and a husband, fighting a riot,
On irrevocable sad in heavy and vain longing.
So a wanderer breaks out of the embrace of friends; but soon
Startled, overtaken by a thunderstorm, looked into a dull distance:
Looking - poor! - love, in vain seeks huts;
He is alone - and the rain is whipping towards him,
The wind whistles, thunders and roar of angry thunders,
And, illuminating the darkness, the lightning of a cloud cuts!
in Age of Happiness, Wilhelm Küchelbecker