Evening breezes rustle yet in the wood
Paul Kont
Evening breezes rustle yet in the wood
from the deepest grounds;
above the lord will now soon
light the stars.
How silent in the chasms!
Just evening breezes in the wood.
Everything goes to its rest.
Wood and world vanish;
shuddering, the wanderer listens,
yearning for home.
Here in the green hermitage of the forest,
Heart, at last, you too go to rest.