When evening has come and all is finally calm

When evening has come and all is finally calm

In warm Nature,

There stirs beneath the trees and beneath the divine sky

The keenest torment.

On the silver gravel, in the tranquil woods,

There is a flourish of violins:

It is a stream of cries, of sobs, of kisses,

Without restraint and without cease.

It seems as if the violin bow is twisting

Over the gleaming strings,

For these are true calls of pleasure and of death

-- And of mercy.

And the burning bow reels in lassitude,

Groaning, suffering and caressing -

A voluptuous dagger that pierces the heart

With exhausting euphoria.

Bows, be cursed for your burning chords,

For your explosive soul:

Red-hot brands that in the shadows tear from our bodies

Scraps of living flesh!