Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
The Ultimate Vehicle of Earthly Bliss - 27. Tired soil
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Deines Schicksals Wort
Hat dich wohl je ein Wort betört?
Es fiel wie Samen in ein Land
Und wuchs bis dir die Welt erstand.
Du pflücktest mit beglückter Hand –
Und ward dein Schicksal dir beschert.
Nun rufst dus in den toten Nächten,
Doch ist dein Erdreich seiner müd,
Es nimmt den Samen nicht. Der flieht
Vom Wind getragen fort und blüht
Bei Fremden auf mit deines Herzens Prächten. [i]
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Your Fateful Word
Hasn’t a word ever riled you?
It fell like a seed on the ground,
Grew till it took over your world.
Then you plucked with complacent hands –
And brought your fate upon yourself.
Now you call through it in the dead of night,
But when your soil is tired of it,
It never takes root. One may float,
Carried away by the breezes
To bloom amid strangers with your heart’s splendor.
[i] “Deines Schicksals Wort” Toni Schwabe, Ibid., p. 59
https://archive.org/details/3476447/page/58/mode/2up
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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