Now the hour of solitude!
No trace of life remains.
Movement itself seems to have died!
All around—skeletons of humanity.
What was there in the beginning, in Adam's time,
remains exactly the same even now;
morning or evening, though daily it may be,
the soul still turns back on the ancient path.
Now the hour of solitude!
All paths of possibility blocked.
War games rage certain on this earth.
The young sun's light beaten back to distances.
Vast darkness, a prison.
Someone beckons from somewhere—
carries whom how far away...
Who knows!
Now the hour of solitude!
I don't know if anyone is near.
In prison, life has no value,
the light in two eyes stands guard,
yet
though the crowd of prisoners swells,
hope does not remain.