It is a rosy wilderness that follows, autumnal

The willows are warming, also staggering

A crystal is quarreling in the shattered phantom

For whoever is resurrected there is a thicket

For whoever is shining there is a shore

It is a lush abyss that curls, autumnal

Desolate, the star seeks far from the hacked villages, the abandoned ruin

The trumpets are roaring, also sighing

The pilgrims weave infinite in the circle of cemeteries

The cemeteries bless hacked in the circle of bats

The reeds are seeking, also decaying

From the path, where the maple glimmers, the thunder reaps, darkened

The fir branches atone darkened in the circle of bells

From the brow's twilight the stone wall, when the pilgrims rust, I follow the shepherd's speechless corpse

Beyond the riverbank a stream curled through the briar, filling me with traveler

Scattered and desolate, the briar was scarlet with clouds

For whoever is dark there is a tavern

For whoever is windless there is a border

Hacked and pious, the abyss was scarlet with oaks

I am a dusk in the red lovely night