In the years when we were br all children, this inclining br to be alone so much was gentle; br others' time passed fighting, br and one had one's faction, br one's near, one's far-off place, br a path, an animal, a picture. br br And I still imagined, that life br would always keep providing br for one to dwell on things within, br Am I within myself not in what's greatest? br Shall what's mine no longer soothe br and understand me as a child? br br Suddenly I'm as if cast out, br and this solitude surrounds me br as something vast and unbounded, br when my feeling, standing on the hills br of my breasts, cries out for wings br or for an end.