The hounds of despair, the hounds of the autumnal wind, 
Gnaw with their howling the black echoes of evenings. 
The darkness, immensely, gropes in the emptiness 
For the moon, seen by the light of water. 

From point to point, over there, the distant lights, 
And in the sky, above, dreadful voices 
Coming and going from the infinity of the marshes and planes 
To the infinity of the valleys and the woods. 

And roadways that stretch out like sails 
And pass each other, coming unfolded in the distance, soundlessly, 
While lengthening beneath the stars, 
Through the shadows and the terror of the night.