Veje trkajo po šipi.Sence plešejo po stropu.Hvala bogu, da se luna lomile na krilih nočnih vešč.Hvala bogu, da je veter tisti,ki si poje skozi noč.
Veje trkajo po šipi.Sence plešejo po stropu.Zdi se mi, kot da drevesabrusijo zaspanim krokarjem zobe.Zdi se mi, da se polito vinospet spominja starih bitk.
Škornji hodijo po šipi.Sanje lepijo po stropu.Zdaj se luna ostro smeje.Oknom zrastli so zobje.Veter žvižga naše pesmi,ko nam piha skozi glave.
Branches rap on the window paneThe shadows dance on the ceilingThank God that the moon refractsonly on the wings of mothsThank God that the wind is thatwhich sings through the night
Branches rap on the window paneThe shadows dance on the ceilingIt seems to me as if the treessharpen the teeth of sleepy ravens.It seems to me as if the spilled wineis again reminiscent of old battles
Boots walk on the window paneDreams stick to the ceilingNow the moon strongly smilesTeeth grew at the windowThe wind whistles our songs,when it blows through our heads.