Hunter’s call and baying blood;
behind cross and brown hill
softly blinds the mirrored pond,
call of hawk hard and bright.

Over lane and stubble field
a black silence already fears;
pure sky among the branches;
only the brook runs steady and still.

Fish and game soon slip away.
Blue soul, dark wandering
soon severs us from lovers, others.
Evening changes image and mind.

Righteous life’s bread and wine,
god, within your gentle hands
mankind lays his dark conclusion,
all his guilt and purple pain.