By the forest’s edge brightly scattered
Bluish speckles and brown dust lay.
A fisherman drew in his nets.
Then dusk came over the field.
But, a yard shined still palely illuminated
And maids brought fruit and wine.
Distantly a shepherd’s song died after.
Then huts stood bleak and strange.
The forest in gray shroud
Evoked sad memory.
And overnight time became quiet
And an army of ravens flew
As if in black holes in the forest and moved
Toward the town’s very distant ringing.
And like in dream a sound of violinsAnd maids run to the dance in the inn.One hears laughter and shouts of drunkards,A shower goes through old yews.In deathly pale window panesThe shadows of the dancers scurry past.It smells of wine and thymeAnd lonely calling resounds through the forest.The beggars listen on the stepsAnd begin to…
And her face is strange!The night weeps by a door!In the marble hall light upon light burns,O stuffy, o stuffy! Somebody dies here!A whisper somewhere: o do you not come?The night weeps by a door!A sobbing still: o that he would see the light!Then it became dark there and here –A sobbing: brother, o do…
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…
The stillness of dark animals; in the valleyThe mill grinds, by the footbridge clouds rest outpoured,The golden strangers. A procession of steedsGallops red in the village. The garden brown and cold.The aster freezes, so delicately painted on the fenceThe sunflower’s gold almost flown away.The stumpets’ voices; dew is poured outOn the hard grass and stars…
What have you done with your life?Be silent! Be silent! Leave all laments!Already it becomes cooler around us,The clouds dissolve in the vastnesses.I think we shall ask more no longerAnd nobody will escort us to the night.
The spirit of evil peers from a silver mask;Lights with magnetic scourge drive off the stony night.Oh, the sunken pealing of evening bells.Whore who in her icy shivers sheds a still-born child.With raving whips God’s fury punishes brows possessed.Purple pestilence, hunger that breaks green eyes.Oh, the horrible laughter of gold.But silent in dark caves a…
