The elder full of fruit; calmly childhood dwelled

In a blue cave. Over the bygone path

Where brownish the wild grass now swishes,

Silent branches ponder; the rustle of leaves

Like when blue water sounds in stone.

The blackbirds’ lament is soft. A shepherd

Follows the sun speechlessly, that rolls down the autumnal hill.

A blue moment is only more soul.

Along the forest edge a shy deer appears and peacefully

The old bells and sinister hamlets rest in the valley.

More devoutly you know the meaning of the dark years,

Coolness and autumn in lonely rooms;

And shining footsteps ring forth in holy blueness.

Quietly an open window rattles; tears flow

At the sight of the decayed cemetery by the hill,

Memories of retold legends; but the soul sometimes brightens

When it thinks glad people, dark-gold spring days.