The working man
We have a bed, we have a child,
my wife!
We also work, and even zuzweit,
and have the sun and rain and wind,
and we lack only a small thing,
to be as free as the birds are:
only time.
If we Sundays through the fields go,
my child,
and well above the ears and wide
the blue swallow people see flashing,
o then we lack not the little dress,
to be as beautiful as the birds:
only time.
Only time! we smell thunderstorm wind,
we the people.
Only a small eternity;
we lack nothing, my wife, my child,
as all that thrives on us,
so glad to be like the birds.
Only time!