LE NZ
33
At first there was an urge, a movement inside him, when the
stones and rocks bounded away, when the gray forest shook itself
beneath him and the mist now blurred its outlines, now half un–
veiled the trees' gigantic limbs; there was an urge, a movement inside
him, he looked for something, as though for lost dreams, but he
found nothing. All seemed so small to him, so near, so wet. He would
have liked to put the whole earth to dry behind the stove, he could
not understand why so much time was needed to descend a steep
slope, to reach a distant point; he thought that a few paces should
be enough to cover any distance. Only from time to time, when the
storm thrust clouds into the valley, and the mist rose in the forest,
when the voices near the rocks awoke, now like thunder subsiding far
away, now rushing back toward him as if in their wild rejoicing they
desired to sing the praise of earth, and the clouds like wild neighing
horses galloped toward him, and the sunshine pierced in between
and came to draw a flashing sword against the snow-covered plains,
so that a bright, dazzling light cut across the summits into the valleys;
or when the gale drove the clouds downwards and hurled them into a
pale-blue lake, and then the wind died down and from the depths
of the ravines, from the crests of the pine trees drifted upwards, with
a humming like that of lullabies and pealing bells, and a soft red
hue mingled with the deep azure, and little clouds on silver wings
passed across, and everywhere the mountain tops, sharp and solid,
shone and glittered for miles- then he felt a strain in his chest, he
stood struggling for breath, heaving, his body bent forward, his eyes
and mouth wide open; he thought that he must draw the storm into
himself, contain it all within him, he stretched himself out and lay
on the earth, dug
his
way into the All, it was an ecstasy that hurt
him-or he rested and laid his head into the moss and half-closed
his eyes, and then it withdrew, away, far away from him, the earth
receded from him, became small as a wandering star and dipped
down into a roaring stream which moved its clear waters beneath
him. But these were only moments; then, soberly, he would rise, reso–
lute, calm, as though a silhouetted drama had passed before his
eyes- he remembered nothing.
Toward evening he came to the highest point of the mountain
range, to the snow field from which one descended again into the flat
country in the west; he sat down on the top. It had grown calmer
