I go on dreaming of paths
of the evening. Oh, the golden
hills, the green pines,
the dusty oak trees!...
Where will the path lead?
I go on singing, a passenger
along the trail...
- The falling evening is-.
“In its heart I had
a passion’s thorn;
I’ll tear it out one day:
I no longer feel my heart.”
And all the field remains
a moment mute and dark,
thinking. The wind sounds
through the river poplars.
The evening darkens more;
and the path winds
and weakly whitens,
becomes cloudy and disappears.
My song begins to wail:
“Sharp golden thorn,
who will feel you once again
in the heart hammered shut.”
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.| Original: |
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1927. The author died in 1939, so this work is also in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 80 years or less. This work may also be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works. |
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