Through the world's din I scan you, and in my quiet lair,
And waylay you in time as some rare game,
To see: are you my falcon and my aim?
Now shall I slay you? or kneel down in prayer?
For faith or else for no belief, alone
I seek you grimly, yet to no avail.
You are my dream, the fairest that I sail,
And dare not hurl you down from your high throne.
Like in the mirrors of a water course,
You seem to be, and seem to be no more;
I caught a glimpse of you - like the wild boar,
'Mid stars and fish, when drinking at a source.
We two in your great saga now, what is
Left me is fight it out with you: the only way,
And yet I do not care to win the day.
I want to touch you and to yell, "He is!"
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