The brown village. A darkness is often reflected

By striding along walls that stand in autumn,

Figures: both man and woman, deceased walk

In cool rooms to prepare the bed of those.

Here boys play. Heavy shadows widen

Over brown manure. Maids walk

Through moist blueness and sometimes they look

Out of eyes fulfilled with night-chimes.

For the lonely there is an inn;

It waits patiently under dark arches,

Where golden clouds of tobacco move around.

Yet always the self is black and near.

The drunk ponders in the shadow of ancient arches

After the wild birds that are drawn far away.