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Also do I like to tickle him with a wax-taper, that he may finally let the heavens emerge from ashy-grey twilight. For especially wicked am I in the morning: at the early hour when the pail rattleth at the well, and horses neigh warmly in grey lanes: Impatiently do I then wait, that the clear sky may finally dawn for me, the snow-bearded winter-sky, the hoary one, the white-head,
But precisely unto him came the shrewder distrusters and nut-crackers: precisely from him did they fish his best-concealed fish! But the clear, the honest, the transparent these are for me the wisest silent ones: in them, so PROFOUND is the depth that even the clearest water doth not betray it. Thou snow-bearded, silent, winter-sky, thou round-eyed whitehead above me!
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