In the Wintergarten, the plants are strangers therein, as is the protagonist of the poem in her life. The lament of the plants, their anguish in the form of exotic fragrance, the desire to embrace the ‘horrible void,’ precede the protagonist’s realization that she too is alienated in the hothouse and a foreigner there. She understands the quiet suffering of the plants in that darkness which is the silence in the hothouse. The plants respond with heavy drops, tears, of empathy.
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