the sunlight warms the grateful earth;
the river slides into the sea.
the mirror shows an endless void:
there must be something wrong with me;

the breeze caresses laughing boughs
like blossoms nuzzled by the bee,
but on my face it's numb and cold:
there must be something wrong with me;

according to these other views,
there’s beauty that i cannot see —
and since the error’s not in them:
there must be something wrong with me.