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A carpet, into which the suffering landscape pales Perhaps the Sea of Galilee, a boat in the gale Golden things fall out of storm clouds Insanity, that seizes the gentle human. The old waters gurgle a blue laughter. And sometimes a dark pit opens. The possessed are reflected in cold metals Drops of blood fall on glowing plates And a countenance decays in black night. Flags, which babble in sinister vaults. Other things remind on the birds' flight Over the gallows the crows' mystical signs Coppery snakes sink in spiky grasses In pillows of incense a smile whore-like and clever. Good Friday's children stand blindly at fences In the mirror of dark gutters full of rottenness The sighing recovery of the dying And angels who go through white eyes From lids dimming golden redemption.