What once Earth to me presented
she's already asking back;
comes to take what she had granted,
grasping tender speck by speck.

Strange: the more of hurts I carried
the more beauty showed the land;
What I fought for, gains of merit,
softly falling from my hand.

And the lighter I am getting,
the more heavily I walk:
'Can't you, from your moistened setting,
spare me, Earth? I beg you, talk!'

'No, I cannot spare you, Brother,
need you for the other one;
out of you I'll feed the other:
let him also see the sun.

But relax and do not rue:
For the Other, too 'tis You!'