Classic Poem

Each word is an angel. Have to
Find each one in that smoky solitude — where
An evening drowns in the water — And above the
Dark forest suddenly is visible the glimmer of a star-studded sky — flapping
Its wings flies the bird of the night...

Each one has its individual personality, each one has secret goals. Have to
Find each one in an immobility inside the tremor
Where time stops in secrecy, and the meaningless mass of things
Change shape into various stages of meaning

Each one has its designated place, like the planets, in a sky
And each one is silent observer, as if — of numerous tides
The waves that line up one after another.