Thousand-year-old yews shudder
In the rising falling chant of the wind.
The moths dance as if they would die soon,
My glance drinks weeping the shadows and lights.
Far away women’s faces float
Ghostly painted in the blue.
A smile trembles in the sunshine,
Meanwhile I slowly stride on;
Unending love gives escort.
Quietly the hard rock greens.
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December
At evening jugglers travel through the forestOn quaint wagons, small steeds.A golden stash seems locked in clouds.In the white plain villages are painted.The wind swings shield and billet black and cold.A raven follows the morose comrades.From the sky a ray falls on bloody guttersAnd placidly a funeral procession pilgrimages to the cemetery.The shepherd’s hut dwindles…
Red spheres often emerge from branches,
The priest escorts the dead person.The nights are fulfilled by celebrations of masks.Then tousled crows glide over the village;In books fairy tales are written miraculously.At the window an old man’s hair flutters.Demons go through the ill soul.The well freezes in the courtyard. Decayed stairs fallIn the darkness and a wind blowsThrough old shafts which are…
The Ravens
at noon the ravens rush with rusty cries.Their shadows touch the deer’s backand at times they loom in gnarled rest.O how they derange the brown stillness,in the one acre itself entranced,like a woman married to grave premonitions,and at times you can hear them bickerabout a corpse they sniffed-out somewhere,and sharply they bend their flight towards…
Soft life grows in the stillness
Loving stays at hedges,That heavily fill up with scents.Beech ponders; the moist bellsFell silent, the fellow singsFire embraces darknessO patience and mute rejoicing.Beautifully animated, silent nightStill gives glad courage to the end.Golden wine, offered byA sister’s blue hands.
Figure which has long dwelt in the coolness of sinister stone
Round owl’s eyes – sounding gold.Those found the cave of the forest decayed and emptyThe shadow of a doe in the rotten branchesAt the border of the spring the darkness of his childhood.Long at the forest border a bird sings your declineThe anxious showers of your brown coat;The shadow of the owl appears in the…
Downfall
Over the white pondthe savage birds draw away.At twilight an icier wind blows about our star.The split forehead of night bendsacross our graves.Under oaks we shudder on a silver barge.Forever ring the whitewashed walls of the city.Under a dome of thornsO my brother we climb—blind hour hands to midnight.Translated by Eric Plattner & Joseph Suglia……………………………………………………………………U…