
Warm the shore is here, and valleys open in welcome,
Pleasantly lit by paths, greenly allure me and gleam.
Gardens, forgathered, lie here and already the dew-laden bud breaks
And a bird’s early song welcomes the traveller home.
All seems familiar; even the word or the nod caught in passing
Seems like a friend’s, every face looks like a relative’s face.
Friedrich Hölderlin, “Homecoming,” in Poems and Fragments, 275–277.
