I’m super rushed this morning only because my sleep was broken by the roar of my husband’s snore. Seperate rooms are sounding like a good idea the more I think about it. I’m taking time to do this for me this morning.
One’s own house is best, small though it
be, at home is everyone his own master.
Bleeding at heart is he, who has to ask for
food at every meal-tide.
One’s own home is best, though it is small.
To each, home is hall.
His heart will bleed
who has to ask for each meal’s meat.
This is kind of like stanza 36 reminding me that no matter how small and humble my home it’s still mine. This stanza goes further to explain how painful it is for someone to ask for shelter and food. I know what it’s like to go without and how it hurt me to ask for help of any kind. I tend to ask someone if they would like something or ask if I can help so the other person doesn’t have to feel what I feel.
Be kind and happy Tuesday Y’all!