Tchaikovsky (hymn of the cherubim)

In The Mist By Hermann Hesse
Strange it is, walking through mists!
Lonely are bush and stone: None to the other exists, each stands alone.
Many my friends I kept calling when there was light in me; Now, that my fogs are falling,
none can I see.
Truly, only the sages fathom a darkness to fall, that, as silent as cages, separates all.
Strange it is, walking through mists!
Life has to solitude grown: None to the other exists: each stands alone.