Bhirchowk Cottage

 

 

‘The Thinker as Poet’

When the early morning light quietly grows above the mountains…

When the little windwheel outside the cabin window sings in the gathering thunderstorm…

When through a rent in the rain-clouded sky a ray of the sun suddenly glides over the gloom of the meadows…

When in early summer lonely narcissi bloom in the meadow and the rock-rose gleams under the maple…

When the wind, shifting quickly, grumbles in the rafters of the cabin and the weather threatens to become nasty…

When on a summer’s day the butterfly settles on the flower and, wings closed, sways with it in the breeze…

When the mountain brook in the night’s stillness tells of its plunging over the boulders…

When in winter nights snowstorms tear at the cabin and one morning the landscape is hushed in its blanket of snow…

When the cowbells keep tinkling from the slopes of the mountain valley where the herds wander slowly…

When the evening light, slanting in the woods somewhere, bathes the tree trunks in gold…

 

Martin Heidegger

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