I long for the land which is not,
for I am tired of desiring all that is.
The moon tells me with writing in silvery clear runes
about the land which is not.
The land where all we wish for wondrously comes into being,
the land where all of our chains fall,
the land where we cool the wounded brows
in the dew of the moon.
My life was a hot illusion.
But one have I found and one thing have I truly won –
the path to the land which is not.
In the land which is not
my beloved walks with a shining crown.
Who is my beloved? The night is dark
and the stars tremble in response.
Who is my beloved? What is his name?
The heavens arch higher and higher,
and a human child drowns in endless fogs
and knows no answer.
But a human child is nothing but certainty.
And it stretches its arms higher than all heavens.
And an answer comes: I am the one you love and always must love.