My Home

My home is everywhere under the firmament,
In all places where songs are sung;
All that sparks with life, lives in my home,
But it is spacious enough for a poet.

Its roof is reaching to the very stars,
And the distance from one wall to another
Is so great that inhabitants can measure it
Not by sight but only with the soul.

There is a sense of truth in the human heart,
A holy kernel of eternity:
An infinite space, a span of time
It embraces in an instant.

The Almighty has built my wonderful home
With this particular sense in mind,
And, though I am destined to suffer many years,
Only in this home can I rest in peace.

1831