Leviathan: Children of the Vortex

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

W. B. Yeats 1817

Westwärts
schweift der Blick:
ostwärts
streicht das Schiff.
Frisch weht der Wind
der Heimat zu:
mein irisch Kind,
wo weilest du?

Richard Wagner, Tristan und Isolde, Act III, Sc. 1