Where am I going, I always used to ask
myself. But now it's only where
have I been, where I have gone
to some other place. No one has ever answered,
not in my world, never inventing an answer --
except when the question turns me
better or worse, either good or bad
in my heart. All good? All awful? Who ever knows!
Surely not me, he who does not need
to understand why yesterday it rained
but today the sun is shining, glimmering
so bright, insistently burning its flames,
its fiery light only painfully seen.
I stand where my feet have brought me:
whoever needs to see my heart?