Larenopfer

Still Another

21 StiLL AnotHEr once it came into the blonde girl’s heart, so pristine as a forest lake, a premonition of great happiness but also sombre fears of heartache. The mother stopped the wheels from spinning, asking: “child, why this vicissitude?” The girl kept silent, mildly sobbing: tacitly each other understood. Then at the door appeared a young man. “So you like each other?” asked the mother. Silence. Such a question! Thus it was in times of yore. And tHE LASt today the room is still—chalk white the mother’s face, her humid eyes unfocused; faint she leans and cries on father’s coffin in her plight. no comfort can the spouse afford for there is nothing one can say. He takes her hands in hushed dismay, entreats her with a look, no word. “dear mom, here flowers, just for you!” the little voice rings softly in her ears; so breaks a timid smile through many tears, and in the old house solace comes anew. ...