What Is It Like to Be a Stone? (First Version)

Why should I feel at peace among stones
on these azure days that are brisk and bright?

That same material for idols and thrones,
why should the creature of conscience not bite?

Pantheism shines no light—
God is the rock apart from all stones.

How the trees recoil at slightest wind blown.
Why should their branches put up a fight,

as if swords were drawn over lofty thrones
or dogs were competing for medals of meat?

Mute, unthinking, void of eyesight,
is that what it is like to be a stone?

Objects of nature have no peace,
for stillness is reached at the heights
of worry and strife: there is found the throne.