Screaming in sleep; through black alleys the wind hurls, 
the blue of spring beckons through breaking branches, 
purple dew of night and all around the stars go out. 
Greenishly the river’s dawning, silvern the old boulevards
and city towers. O mellow drunkenness 
in the gliding boat and the dark calls of the blackbird 
in childhood’s gardens. Already the rosy gauze is lifting.

Solemnly the waters murmur. O, the mead’s moist shadows, 
the striding beast; lush greening, flowering branches 
touch the crystal brow; shimmering, bobbing boat. 
Quietly the sun sounds in the rosy clouds above the hill. 
Grand is the fir wood’s stillness, the solemn shadows at the river. 

Purity! Purity! Where are the terrible paths of death, 
of grey and stony silence, the crags of night 
and the peaceless shadows? Radiant abyss of sun. 

Sister, when I found you in the lonely clearing 
of the forest, and it was midday and great the silence of the animal; 
white figure beneath a wild oak, and silvern bloomed the thorn. 
Mighty dying and a singing flame in the heart. 

Darker the waters flow round the graceful games of the fish. 
Hour of mourning, silent vision of the sun; 
the soul is a stranger on earth. Spiritually blueness 
dusks over the clearcut forest; and a dark bell tolls 
for long in the village; peaceful cortège. 
Silently the myrtle blooms over the white eyelids of the deceased. 

Quietly the waters sound in the sinking afternoon 
and the rank growth on the bank greens darker; joy in the wind; 
the brother's soft song by the evening hill.