The branches of the sky bend grandly in the night wind, The autumn pouring bows them and the stars Through the tumultuous leaves glint and are hidden. A thousand oceans rustle in the branches As the boughs sway, as the heaving tangle glistens. What is the earth and the sons of earth and the hearts of them? They hear the night, the surging of the darkness, They see for a moment the gusty wild starlight, Then starlight no more and only the rustling of grass. But beautiful in the infinite darkness the boughs still bend, And splendor endures, and the glory of stars is forever. |