When you give me your little hand
That conveys so much you never say,
Have I ever asked in any way
If you love me, if you can?
I don't desire love from thee,
Only that I know you're near
And that once in a while dear
You softly and silently give your hand to me.
It's strange to wander in the fog!
A lonely bush, a lonely stone,
No tree can see the other one,
And one is all alone.
The world was full of friends back then,
As life was light to me;
But now the fog has come,
And no one can I see.
Truly, no one is wise,
Who does not know the dark
Which inevitably and silently
Does from others him part.
It's strange to wander in the fog!
Life is loneliness
No Man knows the other one,
And one is all alone.