I
am restless. I am athirst
for faraway things.
My
soul goes out in a longing to touch the skirt of the dim distance.
O
Great Beyond, O the keen call of thy flute!
I
forget, I ever forget, that I have no wings to fly, that I am bound in
this spot evermore.
I
am eager and wakeful, I am a stranger in a strange land.
Thy
breath comes to me whispering an impossible hope.
Thy
tongue is known to my heart as its very own.
O
Far-to-seek, O the keen call of thy flute!
I
forget, I ever forget, that I know not the way, that I have not the
winged horse.
I
am listless, I am a wanderer in my heart.
In
the sunny haze of the languid hours, what vast vision of thine takes
shape in the blue of the sky!
O
Farthest end, O the keen call of thy flute!
I forget, I ever forget,
that the gates are shut everywhere in the house where I dwell alone!