Classic Poem

Calm and silent stands the black forest, over it glows a bloody red stripe where the sun has set. Pale with pain a man's figure is extended upon the cross.
And soldiers stand before him cruel, cold, ridiculing and scorning him with hate: " Now, you King and Messiah, do show some miracle, some token of the god that is your aid! "
And He raises His weary eye full of pain and sees — the're casting lots for his garment; through his limbs a fever-frost is running.
He looks towards the sky — and with last effort his voice cleaves the silence of the night: " Oh, God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me! "