The Hardest Roads — Hilde Domin

Hilde Domin Translated into Albanian from German by Eda Zari

The Hardest Roads

The hardest roads are walked alone. Disappointment, loss, sacrifice — they are solitary.

Even the dead, who answer every call and refuse no plea, cannot stand beside us; they only watch to see whether we can endure.

The hands of the living, reaching out without reaching us, are like the branches of trees in winter. All the birds are silent.

One hears only one’s own step and the step the foot has not yet taken, but will take.

Stopping and turning back do not help. The road must be walked.

Take a candle in your hand, as in the catacombs; the little flame scarcely breathes.

And yet, once you have walked long enough, the miracle does not fail to come, because the miracle always happens, and because without grace we cannot live:

the candle grows bright with the free breath of day; smiling, you blow it out when you step into the sun,

and beneath the flowering gardens the city lies before you, and in your house the table is laid in white.

And the living, whom we may lose, and the dead, whom we cannot lose, break bread for you and offer you wine —

and once again you hear their voices very near your heart.

Eda Zari reflects: we cannot escape our suffering. Miracles and God become our wings. Without mercy, grace and compassion, life cannot be lived. Mercy is often nearer than we think — not somewhere in the beyond, but here beside us, in its most human form.

Photo © Eda Zari, 10.12.2022: “Herz” installation, Königsallee, Düsseldorf.