Poems by Hermann Hesse

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Many thousand glittering motes
At night, when the sea cradles me
How heavy the days are.
I walk so often, late, along the streets,
You brothers, who are mine,
Is this everything now, the quick delusions of flowers,
Don't be downcast, soon the night will come,
Only on me, the lonely one,
In this evil year, autumn comes early...
My Pillow gazes upon me at night