What are you blowing towards me, Winds, what do you bring again?
There is a rustling in all the tree-tops....
· · · · ·
“Why do you wake my soul?
Why do ye stir in me the past, ye Kind ones?
Oh, spare me, and let them rest; oh, do not mock
Those ashes of my joy....
“O change your changeless gods—
And grow in your youth over the old ones.
And if you would be akin to the mortals