Ectasian

There's a stubble field 
On which a black rain falls 
There is a tree which, brown, stands lonely here 
There's a hissing wind 
Which haunts deserted huts 
How sad, this evening 
Past the village pond: the gentle orphan, returning home 
Still gathers scanty ears of corn 
Golden and round 
Her eyes are gazing in the dusk 
And her throbbing lap awaits the bridegroom... returning home 
Shepherds found the sweet body 
Decayed in the bramble bush 
A shade... I am remote from sombre hamlets 
I drank from the woodland well 
The silence of God 
I can feel the touch of cold steel 
Spiders look for my heart 
There is a light that fails in my mouth 
On my forehead cold metal forms 
Spiders look for my heart 
There is a light that fails in my mouth 
I drank from the woodland well 
The silence of God