I can hear the dead whisper;
Lying silently on their back.
Corpses, gently pack in dirty sacks.
Looking so damn pale
as if murdered in a shallow dale.
Silent rivers and running streams,
a sudden scream, maybe from a dream?
Nor not, pierce gape into broken hearts.
Can you hear it too?
Listen; listen closely for it’s a silent one.
Hear the wind blowing; the leaves of the trees
whispering endless songs about distress.
Shadows dancing slow premonitions.
Oh listen, don’t you know all things importance
is always kept silent.
In the forest at night,
the darkness, which extirpates all lights-
Shame on the stars for shining so bright
on last night’s fallen snow… Another corpse
surrounds me with silent whispers.