Decay, which gently darkens the foliage,

Its wide silence dwells in the forest.

Soon a village seems to incline ghostly.

The sister’s mouth whispers in black branches.

The lonely one will soon slip away,

Perhaps a shepherd on a dark paths.

An animal steps quietly from the arcade of trees,

While the eyelids widen before divinity.

The blue river runs beautifully past.

Clouds appear in the evening;

The soul also in angelic silence.

Transient shapes go under.