"A longing to wander tears my heart
when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening.
If one listens to them silently for a long time,
this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning.
It is not so much a matter of escaping from one's suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home,
for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life.
It leads home.
Every path leads homeward, every step is birth,
every step is death, every grave is mother."
Hermann Hesse, Baume, Betrachtungen und Gedichte
when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening.
If one listens to them silently for a long time,
this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning.
It is not so much a matter of escaping from one's suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home,
for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life.
It leads home.
Every path leads homeward, every step is birth,
every step is death, every grave is mother."
Hermann Hesse, Baume, Betrachtungen und Gedichte