这是一盏灯，风已经熄灭了。这是一家荒野上的小酒馆，一个醉汉在下午离开。这是一个葡萄园，被烧焦了，布满了蜘蛛的黑洞。这是一片被牛奶染成白色的空间。疯子死了。它是一个接受太阳神的南海岛屿。一个让鼓轰鸣。男人们表演好战的舞蹈。当海洋歌唱时，女人在蔓生的藤蔓和火花中摇摆着她们的臀部。啊，我们失去的天堂。 The nymphs have departed the golden woods. One buries the stranger. Then arises a flicker-rain. The son of Pan appears in the form of an earth-laborer, Who sleeps away the meridian at the edge of the glowing asphalt. It is little girls in a courtyard, in little dresses full of heart-rending poverty! It is rooms, filled with Accords and Sonatas. It is shadows, which embrace each other before a blinded mirror. At the windows of the hospital, the healing warm themselves. A white steamer carries bloody contagia up the canal. The strange sister appears again in someone's evil dreams. Resting in the hazelbush, she plays with his stars. The student, perhaps a doppelganger, stares long after her from the window. Behind him stands his dead brother, or he comes down the old spiral stairs. In the darkness of brown chestnuts, the figure of the young novice. The garden is in evening. The bats flit around inside the walls of the monastery. The children of the caretaker cease their playing and seek the gold of the heavens. Closing accords of a quartett. The little blind girl runs trembling through the tree-lined street. And later touches her shadow along cold walls, surrounded by fairy tales and holy legends. It is an empty boat, that drives at evening down the black canal. In the bleakness of the old asylum, human ruins come apart. The dead orphans lie at the garden wall. From gray rooms tread angels with shit-spattered wings. Worms drip from their yellowed eyelids. The square before the church is obscure and silent, as in the days of childhood. Earlier lives glide past upon silvery soles And the shadows of the damned climb down to the sighing waters. In his grave, the white-magician plays with his snakes. Silent above the place of the skull, open God's golden eyes.