There are absolute boundaries of law,
Markers set in stones
That freedom cannot fail:
These are liberty's dictates, these
Are the bills of transgression.

Der Verstand

When will it be possible to see
A little bit of light on glass
And know the glass? -- to live
Among objects in their inertia
As a friend and when they move?

I trace my meaning to the compass of a form.

"There will at least be sounds..."
And truly -- but of them too I ask
A kind of music:
The one I can perform.