The black village rises before the forest;
Three shadows are laid over the field.
Meagerly the valley dusks
Below and silent for the humble.
A seriousness greets in garden and hall,
That wants to finish the day,
Piously and darkly an organ-sound.
Marie is enthroned there in blue vestment
And cradles her babe in hand.
The night is starlit and long.
Yellow rosesDefoliated by the garden fence,A great pain meltedTo a dark tear,O sister!So still the golden day ends.
Blue snow flakes sink into the empty room,They are a lovers’ dying mirrors.Heavy and torn to pieces the mind muses,Follows the shadow in the mirror of blue snow flakes,The cold smile of a deceased harlot.The evening’s wind weeps in the scent of carnations.
So they drift in an unfortunate fate,That only melancholy may fathom completely.The clouds lead their ways,A migration of birds may sometimes escort them,Until it loses their track in the evening,And the wind sometimes carries an Ave of bellsIn their camp’s star-loneliness,So that their songs swell more longingAnd sob from inherited curse and suffering,That no stars…
Songs which bleed like wounds.However, no heart carries them to me againThrough the darkness.Only the nocturnal dark floodsRush, sob my songs,Songs which bleed from wounds,They carry them to my heart againThrough the darkness.
man’s golden image drownedin timeless icy tides. On jagged reefshis purpling body. Darkechoes sound above the seas.Stormy sadness’ sister, seeour lonely skiff sunk downby starry skies:the silent face of night.Translated by Jurek KirakowskiAnonymous submission.
Two horses lope in the meadow.The red maple shivers.To the wanderer, a small tavern appears in the distance.It is good to taste young wine and nuts.It is good: to lurch, drunken, into the dawning woods.Tolling, through the black tangle, the dolorous bells.Dew drops on the face.Translated by Eric Plattner………………………………………………………………Zu Abend mein HerzAm Abend hört man…
