The earth trembles,
As if some destiny were pacing upon it with heavy tread.
Perchance all is being changed!
I fain would see in a rose-hued radiance
The joys of men and their hopes,
And be healed and with a free spirit,
O, fain would I live
Or be dead
Or else depart
To distant regions!
O, fain would I be happier!
Amid turmoil a new day is being born,
A great matter is approaching with dire tread,
O, would that I were liberated!
Would that the curse were removed from me,
That I may not be damned!
With strange turmoil the earth is tossing;
With heavy tread something paces hither;
In tempest a new day is being born;
Perchance all is being changed.
O, would that I were healed!
[Pause. Daylight. A pavement is projected. Street-Sweepers enter.]
First Street-Sweeper:
What a damned life!
Second Street-Sweeper:
Damned it is!
