now stands in the distanceless as objects are never able on their own to transform themselves into things. The thing as thing also never comes about in our simply avoiding objects and remembering former old objects that perhaps were at one time on the way to becoming things or even to presencing as such.

Whatever becomes a thing, it takes place from out of the circling of the mirror-play of the world. Only when, presumably suddenly, the world worlds as world does the ring shine forth that ringingly releases the circling of earth and sky, divinities and mortals, into the nimbleness of its single fold [das Ringe seiner Einfalt].

In accordance with this circling, the thinging itself is slight and the thing that each time abides is nimble, inconspicuously pliant in its essence. The thing is nimble: jug and bench, footbridge and plow. But a thing is also, after its manner, tree and pond, stream and mountain. Things are, each abiding [je weilig] thing-like in its way, heron and deer, horse and bull. Things are, each abiding thing-like after their manner, mirror and clasp, book and picture, crown and cross.

Yet scant [ring] and slight [gering] are things even in number, as measured against the innumerable objects everywhere of equal value, as measured against the immeasurable masses of humans as living beings.

Humans as the mortals are the first to dwell in the world as world. Only what is slight of world ever becomes a thing.