The Harmony Of Evening

Now it is nearly time when, quivering on its stem, Each flower, like a censer, sprinkles out its scent; Sounds and perfumes are mingling in the evening air; Waltz of a mournfulness and languid vertigo! Each flower, like a censer, sprinkles out its scent, The violin is trembling like a grieving heart, Waltz of a mournfulness and languid vertigo! The sad and lovely sky spreads like an altar-cloth; The violin is trembling like a grieving heart, A tender heart, that hates non-being, vast and black! The sad and lovely sky spreads like an altar-cloth; The sun is drowning in its dark, congealing blood. A tender heart that hates non-being, vast and black Assembles every glowing vestige of the past! The sun is drowning in its dark, congealing blood... In me your memory, as in a monstrance, shines!