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"De Profundis"

It is a stubble field, where a black rain is falling.
It is a brown tree, that stands alone.
It is a hissing wind, that encircles empty houses.
How melancholy the evening has become.

A while later,
The soft orphan garners the sparse ears of corn.
Her eyes graze, round and golden, in the twilight
And her womb awaits the heavenly bridegroom.

On the way home
The shepherd found the sweet body
Decayed in a bush of thorns.

I am a shadow far from darkening villages.
I drank the silence of God
Out of the stream in the trees.

Cold metal walks on my forehead.
Spiders search for my heart.
It is a light that goes out in my mouth.

At night, I found myself on a pasture,
Covered with rubbish and the dust of stars.
In a hazel thicket
Angels of crystal rang out once more.


"In an Old Family Album"

Always you return melancholy,

O the meekness of the lonely soul.

A day glows golden until the end.

Humbly the patient one knuckles down before grief

Resounding with harmony and tender insanity.

See! It dusks already.

Again night descends and a mortal laments

And another commiserates.

Shuddering under autumn stars

The head bends deeper every year.