Nietzsche

"The crows caw

and move in whirring flight to the city:

soon it will snow-

happy is he who yet - has a home!

Now you stand stiffly,

gazing backwards alas! For how long!

Why, you fool,

did you steal away in the world's winter?

The world - a gate

to a thousand wastelands silent and cold!

whoever has lost

what you've lost, never stops anywhere.

Now you stand pallid,

cursed to the winter wonderings,

like the smoke

that always seeks colder skies.

Fly, bird, rasp out

your song to the tune of a wasteland bird!

-Hide, you fool,

your bleeding heart in ice and scorn!

The crows caw

and move in whirring flight to the city:

soon it will snow,

woe betide he who has no home!"