I am so afraid of people's words

They describe so distinctly everything:

And this they call dog and that they call house,

Here the start and there the end.

I worry about their mockery with words,

They know everything, what will be, what was;

No mountain is still miraculous

And their house and yard lead right up to god

I want to warn and object:

Let the things be !

I enjoy listening to the soung they are making

But you always touch

And they hush and stand still.

That's how you kill.