church in snow and brown rock,
The castle of light frost
On its screen of white moon
Blue like a frozen crystal.
And the old Gothic city
listening, mute and watching,
If with a fantastic murmur
Rises the call of the old believer.
No doubt under the broad dome my
Of white bishops who once died
Must wander, sad ghosts
Exiled from dear Paradise.
Thus under the magic moon
Old walls and erased ghosts
Have nostalgic memories
Of the holy things of the Past...
Oh! Collapse, with dark walls,
Specters, faint! -
It is not before God, in the shadows,
That we are on both knees!

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