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A carpet, into which the suffering landscape pales

Perhaps the Sea of Galilee, a boat in the gale

Golden things fall out of storm clouds

Insanity, that seizes the gentle human.

The old waters gurgle a blue laughter.

And sometimes a dark pit opens.

The possessed are reflected in cold metals

Drops of blood fall on glowing plates

And a countenance decays in black night.

Flags, which babble in sinister vaults.

Other things remind on the birds' flight

Over the gallows the crows' mystical signs

Coppery snakes sink in spiky grasses

In pillows of incense a smile whore-like and clever.

Good Friday's children stand blindly at fences

In the mirror of dark gutters full of rottenness

The sighing recovery of the dying

And angels who go through white eyes

From lids dimming golden redemption.