IN PRAISE OF HÖLDERLIN Somewhat after Rilke Your spirit was nomadic, always journeying on and out. How all the others stayed at home padding about in their snug slippers, house-proud, trading in narrow analogues. You alone rose up and moved across the sky a moon, making the earth more radiant: an arcadia left by laughing children, a glade with no footprints, a crucible of silver.5_nietzsche.html
 
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