Ectasian

There's a stubble field

On which a black rain falls

There is a tree which, brown, stands lonely here

There's a hissing wind

Which haunts deserted huts

How sad, this evening

Past the village pond: the gentle orphan, returning home

Still gathers scanty ears of corn

Golden and round

Her eyes are gazing in the dusk

And her throbbing lap awaits the bridegroom... returning home

Shepherds found the sweet body

Decayed in the bramble bush

A shade... I am remote from sombre hamlets

I drank from the woodland well

The silence of God

I can feel the touch of cold steel

Spiders look for my heart

There is a light that fails in my mouth

On my forehead cold metal forms

Spiders look for my heart

There is a light that fails in my mouth

I drank from the woodland well

The silence of God