On the Transitory: Piece II


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Die Stunden! wo wir auf das helle Blauen
Des Meeres starren und den Tod verstehn,
So leicht und feierlich und ohne Grauen,

Wie kleine Mädchen, die sehr blaß aussehn,
Mit großen Augen, und die immer frieren,
An einem Abend stumm vor sich hinsehn

Und wissen, daß das Leben jetzt aus ihren
Schlaftrunknen Gliedern still hinüberfließt
In Bäum’ und Gras, und sich matt lächelnd zieren

Wie eine Heilige, die ihr Blut vergießt.

And oh the hours! When we on sun-lit blue
At sea observe and comprehend our death
So light, so free of care, without the least despair,

Like little girls with striking pallid skin
And big round eyes, and always seeming cold,
Each silent, staring straight ahead at dusk,

And knowing that right now the very life
From out their weary limbs is flowing forth
To trees and grass, to dress them with sad smile

Just like a martyr pouring out her blood.

Author: mmartel

"If he's honest, he'll steal; if he's human, he'll murder; if he's faithful, he'll deceive. Being at a loss to resolve these questions, I am resolved to leave them without any resolution." I have so much to say to you that I am afraid I shall tell you nothing."

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