In the Fog

Strange, in the fog to wander!

Lonesome is every shrub and stone,

No tree sees the other,

Each is alone.

The world to me was full of friends,

When yet my life was light;

Now, when the fog descends,

None is to my sight.

Of a truth, no-one is wise,

Who knows not all that’s dark,

That ineluctably at ease

Sets him quite apart.

Strange, in the fog to wander!

The living are on their own.

No man knows the other,

Each is alone.

Hermann Hesse