In the Evening

The grass is still yellow, the forest gray and black

But in the evening verdancy dawns,

The river comes from the mountains cold and clear,

Sounds in the rock hiding place; so it sounds,

When you drunkenly move the legs; wild walk

In the blue; and the ecstatic cries of the small birds.

The forehead, which is already very dark,

Inclines deeper over bluish waters, feminine;

Declining again in green evening branches.

Step and gloom sound harmoniously in the purple sun.