European Elegies/Autumn (2)/Nocturne

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97.NOCTURNE

The windmill's pinions no longer flutter,
The river mirrors the eyes of night,
Soft flower-lips their orisons utter,
Tree-tops whisper in hushed delight.

Priests now kindle their tapers pale,
Grey-robed sisters meek vespers sing,
Kneeling children fold fingers frail,
Swans hide their bills in a snowy wing.

Soon comes rest to all the weary,
Heavy heads are pillowed deep;
All released from their grey griefs dreary,
Slumber and sleep and dream and sleep.


From the Norwegian of Sigbjörn Obstfelder.

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