Song of the evening

The moon has risen, silver-bright,

The golden stars in clear sky light,

They gleam and glow through tranquil night.

 

The forest stands in black and hush,

From meadow-lands a wondrous rush

Of white mist rises, soft as plush.

 

How still the world in evening's fold,

In twilight's arms so calm and cold,

So peaceful, gentle, fair to hold.

 

Like some quiet chamber, deep and mild,

Where one should sleep, forget the wild

And weary sorrows of the day, my child.

 

Do you behold the moon up there?

Half-seen it hangs, yet wholly fair.

 

So many things there are, I ween,

We mock because our eyes have seen

No proof — yet still they are, unseen.
[Outro]

Kammermusikalisch-lyrisch, Minimal Music (modern, ruhig, spirituell-neutral)