A speaker looks out from a sunken, prison-like hollow in the mountains—an “oubliette”—and sees five valleys leading away like open gates. Some are dark, some bright with sunshine, and one distant valley looks almost painfully inviting: green grass, little white houses like quartz. Yet he cannot move. He asks why he just crawls around in this pot, stupidly, then asks the harder question: “But where?” Even if he reached a pine-wood, he couldn’t say “Now I am arrived.” The straight trees would mean nothing to him. The mood is one of paralysis and quiet despair: possible paths are visible, even beautiful, but none feels like a real destination. The speaker is stuck not because the way is blocked, but because he has lost the sense that any place could be arrival. The misery is not a locked door; it is the inability to feel that any open door leads somewhere.
Misery — Summary
Out of this oubliette between the mountains five valleys go, five passes like gates; three of them black in shadow, two of them bright with distant sunshine; and sunshine fills one high valley bed, green grass shining, and little white houses like quartz crystals, little, but distinct a way off.
Why don't I go? Why do I crawl about this pot, this oubliette, stupidly? Why don't I go?
But where? If I come to a pine-wood, I can't say Now I am arrived! What are so many straight trees to me!