Darker—

Darker it can never be

than this hour, sinking down,

with the earth’s own gravity

in strange night come to drown,

expropriated are all figures

into one great form,

threatening are lemures

from the shadow forest.

Free then from everything,

you bear a faded lot:

Mourning Cloaks around you swing

and on your lap and mouth—

if the very leaves you fold

on every single tree,

you are not the joiner bold

of your trance and dream.

In a breach of consciousness

silent beyond all skill

stands yet the world-ash

Yggdrasil,

stands as well Aaron’s rod

rendered dry in pieces,

then with miracle of blood

Israel made blesséd—

To you alone it is unveiled

empty as thin air

forevermore unfulfilled

promesse du bonheur,

for you it can never be,

every hour, sinking down,

with the earth’s own gravity

in strange night come to drown.

Gottfried Benn