In the fading red bonfires of our lives
We shall take from our brows the festival garland
All wild leaves and shedding roses
And later in silence go down to the rivers.
And with sunset we shall stand at their banks
With eyes searching their passing, -
Lost and proud unendingly in their loneliness.
In the flow of the ruddy evening
Amazed, we shall see flowers coming,
White flowers
Carried dearly on the face of the water --
They were plucked from the edge of a rich garden
With laughter in the afternoon.
We shall know: our youth has passed before our eyes.
In the evening of their memory in our souls
Turn, let the shadow of the weeping willow darken over our heads.
But from above star after star steps on the face of the hills
And sanctifies a great and strange night upon us,
The evening wind shall touch us and moan as on black violins.