Soul of life

Decay, that soft the leaf beglooms,

Its broad hush lives within the wood.

Soon appears a village ghostly thewed.

The sister’s mouth amid black branches blooms.

The lonely man quite soon will slip,

Perhaps a shepherd on dark ways.

A beast treads lightly from the tree arcades,

Its eyelids open wide full of divinity.

Fair the blue stream runs a-down,

Clouds at evening make their presence felt;

The soul as well in a hush angelic.

Fleeting forms go their way all down.

Georg Trakl