Waves are the sea's white daughters, And raindrops the children of rain, But why for my shimmering body Have I a mother like Pain?
Night is the mother of stars, And wind the mother of foam-- The world is brimming with beauty, But I must stay at home.
The speaker looks at the natural world and sees belonging everywhere: waves are daughters of the sea, raindrops are children of rain, night is the mother of stars, and wind is the mother of foam. Everything seems to have a beautiful, fitting origin. But she feels cut off from that harmony.
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