Skip to main content
Read page text

Walser / Hamburger



Yellow-black in the snow before me a path gleams and winds under trees. It’s evening, and heavily colours moisten the air.

The trees under which I walk have branches like children’s hands; they endlessly beseech, unspeakably dear, when the walker halts and stands.

Distant gardens and hedges burn in the dark confusion, and a glowing sky, fear-frozen, sees the children’s hands stretch out.


I wanted to stop, stand still but was driven on and on, past trees that were all black, but under those black trees I wanted to stop, stand still, yet was driven on and on, past meadows that were green, but by those green meadows

My Bookmarks

    Skip to main content