Who am I

"Who am I?"
By Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Who am I? They often tell me
I steped from my cell's confinement
calmly, cheerfully,firmly,
like a Squire from his country house.

Who am I? They often tell me
I used to speak to my warders
freely and friednly and clearly,
as though it were mine to command.

Who am I? They also tell me
I bore the days of misfortune
equably, smilingly, proudly,
like one accustomed to win.

Am I then really that which other men tell of?
Or am I only what I myself know of myself?
Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat,
yearning for colours, for flowers, for the voiced of birds,
thirsting for words of kindness, for nightblindness,
tossing in expectation of great events,
powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making
faint, and ready to say farewell to it all.

Who am I? This or the Other?
Am I wone person today and tomorrow another?
Am I both at once? a hypoctite before others,
and before myself a contemptible woebegon weaking?
Or is something within me still like a beaten army
fleeing in disorder from vistory already achieved?

Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am Thine!