Funeral Service and Burial in the Forest Cemetery – The doves slumber in the house; but where do the birds fly to?

Prayer and Meditation - Forest Cemetery

The doves slumber in the house; but where do the birds fly to? The waterfall muffles its roar, but where do the streams run? Peacefully the smoke takes root on the roofs, but where does the night cloud flow to? There are lights in a thousand rooms, but where are the stars sinking? Whenever we lie and sleep, ships leave the harbor in the dark. I often look at the stars in the sky at midnight, when I have finished my work and no one is awake in the house.

They go to and fro scattered as lambs in the field, in packs and strung like pearls on a string. And sparkling all far and wide, and sparkling pure and fair; I see the great splendor and can't get enough of it. Then, under the heavens, my heart in my breast says; There's something better in the world than all its pain and pleasure. I throw myself down on my bed and lie awake long and seek it in my mind and long for it. Eyes, my dear little windows, give me a nice shine for so long, let in picture after picture in a friendly way; One day you will be darkened.

Once the tired eyelids close, extinguish them, then the soul has rest; gropingly she slips off her hiking boots and also lies down in her dark chest. She sees two more sparks, glowing, like two little stars, to see inwardly, until they sway and then also disappear, like a butterfly's wing flutter. But I still walk on the evening field, only associated with the sinking star; Drink, O eyes, what your eyelids can hold of the golden abundance of the world!