Immer und immer wieder komme ich auf Mary Oliver zurück. Komme ich zu Mary Oliver zurück. Ich kann mir nicht helfen. Ich will mir gar nicht helfen.
Hier ist „THE OTHER KINGDOMS“ von Mary Oliver.
Consider the other kingdoms. The
trees, for example, with their mellow-sounding
titles: oak, aspen, willow.
Or the snow, for which the peoples of the north
have dozens of words to describe its
different arrivals. Or the creatures, with their
thick fur, their shy and wordless gaze. Their
infallible sense of what their lives
are meant to be. Thus the world
grows rich, grows wild, and you too,
grow rich, grow sweetly wild, as you too
were born to be.