Calendar of the Soul

  I feel enchanted weaving
  Of spirit within outer glory.
  In dullness of the senses
  It has enwrapt my being
  In order to bestow the strength
  Which in its narrow bounds my I
  Is powerless to give itself.

  Ich fühle wie verzaubert
  Im Weltenschein des Geistes Weben:
  Es hat in Sinnesdumpfheit
  Gehüllt mein Eigenwesen,
  Zu schenken mir die Kraft:
  Die, ohnmächtig sich selbst zu geben,
  Mein Ich in seinen Schranken ist.

  I feel the Spirit weave
  trance-charmèd in the world's array;
  in drowsihood of sense
  it muffled my sole self
  to tender me the strength
  myself I am too poor to furnish forth
  helpless within these narrow bounds.