Old plazas remain in sunny silence.

Deeply spun in blue and gold

Soft nuns hasten dreamlike

Under the sultry beech trees’ silence.

Out of the brownly illuminated churches

Death’s pure images look,

Mighty princes’ beautiful emblems.

Crowns shimmer in the churches.

Steeds plunge out of the fountain.

Flower-claws threaten from trees.

Boys play woozy from dreams

Quietly in the evening there at the fountain.

Girls stand at the gates,

Look timidly into the colorful life.

Their moist lips quiver

And they wait at the gates.

Bell-sounds flutter trembling,

Rhythm of march and the guard’s call resonate.

Strangers listen on the stages.

High in the blue are organ sounds.

Bright instruments sing.

Through the garden’s borders of foliage

The laughter of beautiful ladies whirs by.

Quietly young mothers sing.

Secretly at flowery windows

Scent of incense, tar and lilac wafts.

Tired eyelids flicker silverly

Through the flowers at the windows.