Out For A Walk

The margins of the forest are beautiful,

as if painted onto the green slopes.

I walk around, and sweet peace

rewards me for the thorns

in my heart, when the mind has grown

dark, for right from the start

art and thinking have cost it pain.

There are lovely pictures in the valley,

for example the gardens and trees,

and the narrow footbridge, and the brook,

hardly visible.  How beautifully

the landscape shines, cheerfully distant,

like a splendid picture, where I come

to visit when the weather is mild.

A kindly divinity leads us on at first

with blue, then prepares clouds,

shaped like gray domes, with

searing lightning and rolling thunder,

then comes the loveliness of the fields,

and beauty wells forth from

the source of the primal image.