Died has the smouldering fire of day,
Its embers still glow in the westerly sky,
Soon they’ll give way to the darkness of night.
A slow-moving shade creeps from the cold east,
Hiding the world with its black starry cloak,
Everywhere under the bright colours fade,
Thicker grow shadows in corners and cracks.
Just as a sickness creeps over a man,
Paling the face and stealing its redness,
Surrounding the eyes with ill boding black,
Seeping the life from a body once strong.
Quiet’s the world with slow idle sleep,
Its creatures depart for the dreamy realm,
The woods and the fields and the high mountain peaks,
Lonely they listen to Silence’s song.
A frost bringing wind just howls in the dark,
Its voice undisturbed by bustling day,
Calm’s all around in this shadowy waste,
Peaceful and quiet is starry-eyed Night.
The Dionysian
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