...
And I open my lips, but I cannot speak.
Am I afraid? Does my courage fail? Alas, no, I am not afraid. But I am
weak, that I am, and I cannot speak because I look upon God's sun and
the trees for the last time....
What now? A horseman with a white flag?
Peace, my heart, do not tremble so!
No, it is a woman with a white veil, a handsome woman of my own age.
Her neck is bare like my own.
And I do not understand it, but I weep because of this white veil,
too, because I am weak and the white veil flutters beautifully against
the green background of the forest. But in a little while I shall see
it no more....
Perhaps, though, after my head has fallen I may still be able to see
the blessed sky for a few moments with my eyes. It is not impossible,
if I only open my eyes widely when the axe falls. Then the sky will be
the last I see.
But don't they tie a bandage across my eyes? Or won't they blindfold
me because I am so weak and tearful? But then everything will be dark,
and I shall lie blindly, unable even to count the threads in the cloth
before my eyes.
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