On steep cliffs
Where you find eagles and clouds,
Above the mighty sea,
In the radiant azure –
Hey,
Storms
Have blossomed there!
Storms have blossomed...
From the valleys
Hands stretched out to the skies:
O, thunderstorms, lend us
Your downpouring azure! –
At once
Downward
Droplets of blood fell!
Droplets of blood fell...
On tilled fields, on grass,
Silvery-green,
On slimstalked
Golden rye,
Hey,
There,
Where rustling rustled!
Where rustling rustled...
Someone burned daybreakingly,
Genuflectingly:
Earth, give us the rustling,
The rustling – of madness!
The night.
Weeping.
Death rustles its scythe!
Death rustles its scythe...
August 1917