| You do not have to be good. | |
| You do not have to walk on your knees | |
| for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. | |
| You only have to let the soft animal of your body | |
| love what it loves. | 5 |
| Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. | |
| Meanwhile the world goes on. | |
| Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain | |
| are moving across the landscapes, | |
| over the prairies and the deep trees, | 10 |
| the mountains and the rivers. | |
| Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, | |
| are heading home again. | |
| Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, | |
| the world offers itself to your imagination, | 15 |
| calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting - | |
| over and over announcing your place | |
| in the family of things. | |
