«A body was given to me — what to do with it, / So unique and so much my own? For the quiet joy of breathing and living, / Who is it, tell me, that I must thank? I am the gardener, I am the flower as well, / In the dungeon of the world I am not alone. On the glass of eternity has already ...»
«It's so my own and so familiar. What should / I do with this God-given flesh and blood? For joys so quiet as to live and breathe, / Who will receive my gratitude for these? I'm both the gardener and flower one, / In this world's dungeons I am not alone. On the glass of the eternal one can s...»
«What shall I do with the body I've been given, / So much at one with me, so much my own? For the quiet happiness of breathing, being able / To be alive, tell me to whom I should be grateful? I am gardener, flower too, and not alone / In the world's dungeon. My warmth, my exhalation, one can...»
«This gift, my body — what shall I do with it? / So unique to me, so much my own. The joy of breathing quietly, merely being alive / — tell me, who shall I thank for that? I am both gardener and flower. I know / in this world's prison, I am not alone. I have pressed on eternity's path...»