We halted in a town the host

ordered the table to be moved to the garden the first star

shone out and faded we were breaking bread

crickets were heard in the twilight loosestrife

a cry but a cry of a child otherwise the bustle

of insects of men a thick scent of earth

those who were sitting with their backs to the wall

saw violet now—the gallows hill

on the wall the dense ivy of executions

we were eating much

as is usual when nobody pays