The dark fellow wrote on the door of the courtyard with white chalk: “My songs plead quietly. I am winter's dark companion. The moon has finally risen and now shines on the dark tomb. So clear the night, when golden stars shine, when severe frost laughs in silence and makes this silence - it seems - last forever. The forest is threatened with death in its white festive robe. He, the frost, caught this night. It stretches endlessly, the white surface, down to the last touch of life (empty). The lively pulses have long since stopped, even the cold wind has stopped moving. The dark fellow and Anatol, his servant, continue to walk on their paths, through the last clouds of mist, far up to the end of their paths, where hardly anyone is moving. But in the broadly frozen heath, no turning back will lead them back. Because here it is night, only night, only night. The dark fellow is looking for his next job. He wants to go all the way up to the mountain where God caused many serious sins to occur. He is the devil's judge. And through the well-cleaned funnel, winter listens to Schubert's most beautiful songs.
In this cold, even a raven digs down into his innermost being, as if he were digging his own grave. But he, the dark fellow, chases the clown through the sea of u200bu200bfir trees. The world - a gateway to a thousand deserts, silent and cold...and empty! Anyone who enters the forest at this time will probably not stop anywhere. But in this ghostly hustle and bustle the journeyman suddenly stops. With one breath he absorbs all the power of the forest, as winter beguiles his last senses. And where the moon reaches down to the white ground through bright pine treetops, the companion sees in a beautiful wing, reaching the summit of this white night.

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