shaking the grave

into the chestnut.Translated by Robert Hass

Of brave soldiers dreams

All the day long-yet not long enough for the skylark,singing, singing.

the oil freezing.It has rained enoughto turn the stubble on the fieldblack.Winter rainfalls on the cow-shed;a cock crows.The leeksnewly washed white,-how cold it is!The sea darkens;the voices of the wild ducksare faintly white.Ill on a journey;my dreams wanderover a withered moor.

piercing like a knife

bending together