Whereto do you speed,
You clouds, heavenly vessels;
Beyond that lofty mountain,
Into the distance you disappear;
Into a land beyond mine, where,
Absolved of sorrow, you cheerfully
Partake in Summer festivities.
But here, dear clouds, where I
Dwell with my earthly troubles,
Eternal winter makes its kingdom;
Winds are cold, speechless, dead,
And the sky is granite, void of life.
I would implore you to escort me
Yonder, to the land where Sun sets
Not; but oh, I know this - I am not
A cloud, and it is man\'s destiny to
Weep, and clouds\' to pass him by,
Uninterested in his affairs, for they
Are Heaven-born angels, and man\'s
But a wide-eyed observer, a yearner.