(translated by William Wehrmeister)
My soul moves through the hard veins
of stony mountains, in slender threads of ore;
So deep inside, there is no light in sight,
and no distance: all around is at hand
and all is turning to stone.
It is like this, when looking at suffering,—
this vast darkness hides all in stone;
so you the outsider, are the one, who has
the power, and the skill to delve deep:
to return all to the open sky, my soul,
and what was hidden there
in its darkest moments.
