awakening happens in "storms" that “drift on between heaven and earth and among the peoples.” It is necessary that the whole realm in which nature previously seemed to be sleeping experiences an upheaval. This upheaval of the all stems from a shock that is “more prepared in the depths of time.” The awakening reaches back into the oldest time, from which all that is to come has already been prepared. Therefore, the shocks of the all are also “more full of meaning... to us”—namely, to the poets who share in the awakening. The richness of the primordial grants their word such an excess of meaning as can scarcely be uttered. Hence, “a load of logs” is laid on their shoulders. That is why for them too, there is “much to be retained” (“Ripe are ...” IV2, 71); “much is to be said” (IV2, 219, 221), for “there is still much to be sung” (“At the Source of the Danube,” IV2, 161). Yet because the shocks stem from the oldest depths of awakening nature, and because the poets are lightly embraced by nature, inspiration thus must be more present and so “more perceptible” to them. [67]

The thoughts of the communal spirit they are,
Quietly ending in the soul of the poet.

Hölderlin deliberately placed a comma after the “are.” Just as an inconspicuous tap of the sculptor’s chisel imparts a different form to the figure, so this comma places a special emphasis on the “are.” “Awakening nature,” “inspiration,” is present. The manner of its presence is to be coming. The holy keeps everything together in the unscathed immediacy of its “firm law.” Separating everything, “spirit” remains attached to everything, pervading and joining everything through thought. As “spirit,” it is always “communal spirit.” And as for the presence of the inspiration of spirit, permeating everything and maintaining everything in its unity—what sort of presence is that? “Quietly ending in the soul of the poet.” “Inspiration” does not end by vanishing and ceasing. On the contrary, inspiration is admitted in and preserved—to be sure, “quietly.” The shock is stilled and preserved into rest. The awesome power of the holy rests in the mildness “of the poet s” soul. The holy is quietly present as what is coming. That is also why it is never represented and grasped as an object. Elsewhere in this poem, Hölderlin speaks of the poets in the plural (lines 10-11,16-17, 3b 56). But here he speaks of a single poet, the one who says, “I awaited and saw it come.” The certainty of his words stems from his knowledge:

The thoughts of the communal spirit they arc,
Quietly ending in the soul of the poet.