Silently, God opens his golden eyes over the place of skulls.
Shuddering under the autumn stars, each year, the head sinks lower and lower.
The blue of my eyes is extinguished in this night, the red gold of my heart.
The near stillness recalls what is forgotten, extinct angels.
Black frost. The ground is hard, the air tastes bitter. Your stars cluster in evil signs.
The guilt of newborns is immense.