The soul falls silent in blue springtime.
Under damp evening branches
The forehead of lovers sank in shudders.
O the greening cross. In dark conversation
Man and woman know each other.
Along the bare wall
The lonely one wanders with his stars.
Over the moon-brightened forest paths
Of forgotten hunts sank; a glimpse of blue
Breaks from mouldered rocks.
© Jim Doss & Werner Schmitt