Song Of The Spirits Over The Waters

The soul of man Is like water: It comes from heaven, It rises to heaven, And back down To earth it must again, Eternally changing. When from the high Sheer wall of rock The pure jet streams, It gently dusts Down on the smooth stone In waves of clouds, And, lightly embraced, Undulates, veils, Softly murmuring Down to the deep. If cliffs obstruct Its fall, It foams angrily Step by step Into the abyss. In the flat river bed It steals through the valley’s meadows, And in the smooth lake All the stars Feast on their own faces. Wind is the wave’s Fine lover; Wind mixes the foaming swell From the bottom of the lake. Soul of man, How like water you are! Fate of man, How like the wind!