For so many has the table
Been prepared, the house set in order.
From their wandering, many
Come on dark paths to this gateway.
The tree of grace is flowering in gold
Out of the cool sap of the earth.
In stillness, wanderer, step in:
Grief has worn the threshold into stone.
But see: in pure light, glowing
There on the table: bread and wine.
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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…
I saw myself go through abandoned rooms.
And on the fields the dogs howled loud,And in the treetops the foehn rummaged wildly.But suddenly: stillness! Stuffy fever glowLets poisonous flowers bloom from my mouth,From the branches like from a woundPale gleaming dew falls, and falls, and falls like blood.From a mirror’s deceitful emptinessA countenance slowly lifts in the vaguenessOut of horror and darkness:…
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…
Oh the nighttime beating of the soul’s wings:
that were growing dark,And the red deer, the green flower and the speakingriver followed usIn humility. Oh the old old note of the cricket,Blood blooming on the altarstone,And the cry of the lonely bird over the green silenceof the pool.And you Crusades, and glowing punishmentOf the flesh, purple fruits that fell to earthIn the garden…
Like the wild organs of the winter storm
The purple billow of battleOf stars leaf-stripped.With broken brows, silvery armsThe night beckons to dying soldiers.In the autumnal ash-tree’s shadeThe ghosts of the killed are sighing.Thorny wilderness surrounds the town.From steps that bleeds the moonDrives off dumbfounded women.Wild wolves have burst through the gate.
In the green ether suddenly a star flickers
The thrush trills crazily hidden in the bushAnd cloister bells go dreamlike and far.A statue towers in the square, lonely and slenderAnd in the courtyard red flowerbeds dawn.The air around wooden balconies shakes with sultrinessAnd flies quietly reel around the stench.The silver curtain there before the window hidesEntwined limbs, lips, tender breasts.A hard hammering echoes…