Song in the Night
I
Born from the shadow of a breath
We wander in abandonment
And are lost in the eternal,
Like victims ignorant wherefore they are consecrated.
Like beggars nothing is our own,
We fools at the locked gate.
As blind people we listen in the silence,
In which our whisper is lost.
We are the wanderers without destinations,
The clouds which the wind blows away,
The flowers shaking in death's coolness,
Which wait, until one mows them down.
II
So that the last torment becomes complete with me,
I do not defend you, you hostile dark powers.
You are the road to great stillness,
Upon which we stride in the coolest nights.
Your breath makes me burn louder,
Patience! The star dies down, the dreams glide
In those realms not named to us,
And which we may only walk along dreamlessly.
III
You dark night, you dark heart,
Who mirrors your holiest ground,
And your malice's last abysses?
The mask stares before our pain -
Before our pain, before our lust
The empty mask's stony laughter,
On it the earthen things broke,
And ourselves not deliberately.
And a strange enemy stands before us,
Who jeers, about which we struggle dying,
So that our songs sound cloudier
And what weeps in us remains dark.
IV
You are the wine that makes drunk,
Now I bleed in sweet dances
And must wreath my suffering with flowers!
So your deepest mind wills, o night!
I am the harp in your womb,
Now your dark song struggles
For the last pains in my heart
And makes me eternal, unreal.
V
Deep rest - o deep rest!
No devout bell rings,
You sweet mother of pain -
Your death-widened peace.
Close all wounds
With your cool, good hands -
So that inward they bleed to death -
Sweet mother of pain - you!
VI
O let my silence be your song!
What should the poor's whisper be to you,
Who is separated from life's gardens?
Let you be nameless in me -
Who is dreamlesslybuilt up in me ,
Like a bell without tone,
Like my pain's sweet bride
And the drunken poppy of my sleepings.
VII
I heard flowers die in the ground
And the wells' drunken lament
And a song from the bell's mouth,
Night, and a whispered question;
And a heart - o death-wound,
Beyond its poor days.
VIII
The darkness extinguished me in silence,
I became a dead shadow in the day -
Then I stepped from the house of joy
Outside in the night.
Now a silence dwells in my heart,
That does not feel the dreary day -
And smiles up to you like thorns,
Night - forever and ever!
IX
O night, you mute gate before my suffering,
See this dark stigmata bleeding to death
And completely inclined the staggering chalice of agony!
O night, I am ready!
O night, you garden of oblivion
Around my poverty's closed-to-the-world shine,
The wine leaves wilt, the wreath of thorns wilts.
O come, you grand time!
X
My demon once laughed,
When I was a light in gleaming gardens,
And play and dance were my companions
And the wine of love, which makes drunk.
My demon once wept,
When I was a light in painful gardens
And humility was my companion,
Whose radiance shines on poverty's house.
However, now my demon neither weeps nor laughs,
I am a shadow of lost gardens
And my death-dark companion is
The silence of the empty midnight.
XI
My poor smile which struggled for you,
My sobbing song faded away in darkness.
Now my path comes to an end.
Let me tread in your cathedral
Like once, a fool, simple minded, devoutly,
And stand adoring mutely before you.
XII
You are in deep midnight
A dead shore at the silent sea,
A dead shore: Never more!
You are in deep midnight.
You are in deep midnight
The heaven in which you glowed as a star,
A heaven from which no more God blossoms.
You are in deep midnight.
You are in deep midnight
An unbegotten in sweet womb,
And never existing, unreal!
You are in deep midnight.
poem by Georg Trakl
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Related quotes
Silence...
Often i stand and stare
into the diminishing light of the day
horizon gradually fading into nothingness
willow and pine piercing the night
the earth ruptures into a song;
accompanied with shrill whistles in the dark
the howling of the wolves and brisk blaring of the wind
Silence enters into the serene beauty of the dusk.
Silence that invites me to come and see
Silence that asks me to reveal
Silence that wants me to make unwanted promises
Silence that does nothing but ruptures a wound deep within
Silence that drags along unwanted pain
Silence that emulsifies unspoken words of love and gain
Silence that was till then pressed within my lips
Silence that now has emerged as a giant affliction.
Silence that comes as a sorrow
Silence that makes me loathe my tommorows
Silence that demads i submit all my emotions
Silence that is eager to make me weak and fragile
Silence that commands i dropp a tear
Silence that dictates me to get lost in the dark
Silence that brings love as a foe
silence that wants to bind hatered deep within my soul
Silence that hurts me for no rhyme and reason
Silence that makes me feel so forlon
Silence that has so much bitterness
Silence that washes away all my hopes and pray
Silence that makes me go week
Silence that unearths agonizing memories
Silence that came so unnvited
Silence that fails to unbreak any Silence.............
poem by Pooja Nepal
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Within The Midnight Hour
In the midnight hours, my heart
breaks, the fog moves in, wraps
it arms around the morning's
longing wake. The gentle dew
falls from the nights moon, within
the loving fog, my heart
blooms.
The midnight stars fading one
by one, falling from the darkness,
until the night is done. Stars
floating within my sea of tears,
midnight awaiting for my
love to appear.
Gripping the cool night, feeling
alone, lost in the misty fog,
my heart looking for a home.
Crying to the Heaven's, my
universe in pain, moon beams
playing melodies upon my
broken heart strings.
In the midnight hour, your
sweet name I call, the galaxy
crying, losing light as it's stars
fall. Alone in the midnight hour,
my heart, the pain consumes,
within the loving fog, my heart
does bloom.
poem by Ruth warren
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The Gardener XVI: Hands Cling to Eyes
Hands cling to hands and eyes linger
on eyes: thus begins the record of our
hearts.
It is the moonlit night of March;
the sweet smell of henna is in the air;
my flute lies on the earth neglected
and your garland of flowers is
unfinished.
This love between you and me is
simple as a song.
Your veil of the saffron colour
makes my eyes drunk.
The jasmine wreath that you wove
me thrills to my heart like praise.
It is a game of giving and with-
holding, revealing and screening again;
some smiles and some little shyness,
and some sweet useless struggles.
This love between you and me is
simple as a song.
No mystery beyond the present;
no striving for the impossible; no
shadow behind the charm; no groping
in the depth of the dark.
This love between you and me is
simple as a song.
We do not stray out of all words
into the ever silent; we do not raise
our hands to the void for things
beyond hope.
It is enough what we give and we
get.
We have not crushed the joy to
the utmost to wring from it the wine
of pain.
This love between you and me is
simple as a song.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Second Best
Here in the dark, O heart;
Alone with the enduring Earth, and Night,
And Silence, and the warm strange smell of clover;
Clear-visioned, though it break you; far apart
From the dead best, the dear and old delight;
Throw down your dreams of immortality,
O faithful, O foolish lover!
Here's peace for you, and surety; here the one
Wisdom - the truth! - 'All day the good glad sun
Showers love and labour on you, wine and song;
The greenwood laughs, the wind blows, all day long
Till night.' And night ends all things.
Then shall be
No lamp relumed in heaven, no voices crying,
Or changing lights, or dreams and forms that hover!
(And, heart, for all your sighing,
That gladness and those tears are over, over. . . .)
And has the truth brought no new hope at all,
Heart, that you're weeping yet for Paradise?
Do they still whisper, the old weary cries?
‘’Mid youth and song, feasting and carnival,
Through laughter, through the roses,as of old
Comes Death, on shadowy and relentless feet,
Death, unappeaseable by prayer or gold;
Death is the end, the end!’
Proud, then, clear-eyed and laughing, go to greet
Death as a friend!
Exile of immortality, strongly wise,
Strain through the dark with undesirous eyes
To what may lie beyond it. Sets your star,
O heart, for ever! Yet, behind the night,
Waits for the great unborn, somewhere afar,
Some white tremendous daybreak. And the light,
Returning, shall give back the golden hours,
Ocean a windless level, Earth a lawn
Spacious and full of sunlit dancing-places,
And laughter, and music, and, among the flowers,
The gay child-hearts of men, and the child-faces
O heart, in the great dawn!
poem by Rupert Brooke (1908)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Night..
Night is the worst time
Night is a hard time
Why can't I sleep
Why can't I rest
Pain in my heart
Pain in my eyes
Lost is my true love
Lost is my heart
The night is dark
Dark are my thoughts
Lost is the daylight
Lost is my life
Night is like death
Night is so cold
Hurt when I rest
Hurt in my soul
Longing for you
Longing to hold you
Lost forever
Lost to the night
poem by Grim Blackhart
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A Midnight Caller
The sound of Dakota by Stereophonics,
The periodic sound of my ringtone,
In that moment sub-conciousness,
There goes the midnight caller,
Like a phantom she whispers soft words,
Like a baby I concentrate unto her,
She tells me she couldnt sleep,
Only my voice could rescue her,
Jailed in her iron cell,
Of solitude in a lonely night,
She is a midnight caller
Her voice so penetrative like winter winds,
Sending an impulse down to my toes,
My night is changed for the better,
Like she is right there with me,
My pillow knnows her voice,
So does my linen sheets,
In the silence of the dark nights,
Stereophonics, Dakota plays again,
Goodnight wishes again and again,
She is a midnight caller
Midnight, my seasonal best friend,
Only in need not in deed,
Approach faster, I have fallen in love,
Starring at my fone waiting for your call
To regain hope lost in the morning,
To revitalise moral lost in the afternoon,
Winning what I lost during sunset,
Your words like a bundle of joy
She id a midnight caller
She knows the most perfect time,
When muscles are relaxed, perfectly,
When the brain is at ease,
Who taught her such,
She got it better than everyone,
Bright enough to shine my night,
Dont hold the phone on me,
My ear hungers for you sweet one,
Oh my, she is a midnight caller
Its like a new world in my bed,
My room a fantasyland,
Your words turn the lights on,
They kiss away the fright,
And certainly they turn me on,
Your last words,
Two big tears rolling down my cheeks
She steals my heart by night,
Waiting upon her call,
Dakota, please play along,
She makes my night,
She is a midnight caller
poem by Gaylord Munemo
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Darkness Sets Upon Her
Dark as ebony, dark as night
Dark as the raven in mid flight
Dark as the grave doth her heart grow
Cold and silent as the dead of night
Oh sweet angel of mercy, sweet angel of light
Beckon to her before she takes flight
Speak ever so softly, breath life back into her soul
That she'll not tread life's pathway
A hollow, empty shell full of darkness so foul
That eats away at the radiant light
Which once from the windows of her soul did flow
For quickly doth darkness set upon her
Stealing away what little remains pure
Blackening her heart, blotting out the light
Nevermore to shine, cold and silent as the dead of night
poem by Jennifer Batch
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With The Lark
Night is for sorrow and dawn is for joy,
Chasing the troubles that fret and annoy;
Darkness for sighing and daylight for song,--
Cheery and chaste the strain, heartfelt and strong.
All the night through, though I moan in the dark,
I wake in the morning to sing with the lark.
Deep in the midnight the rain whips the leaves,
Softly and sadly the wood-spirit grieves.
But when the first hue of dawn tints the sky,
I shall shake out my wings like the birds and be dry;
And though, like the rain-drops, I grieved through the dark,
I shall wake in the morning to sing with the lark.
On the high hills of heaven, some morning to be,
Where the rain shall not grieve thro' the leaves of the tree,
There my heart will be glad for the pain I have known,
For my hand will be clasped in the hand of mine own;
And though life has been hard and death's pathway been dark,
I shall wake in the morning to sing with the lark.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Star Light Friends
How can these things fly and run across the night sky
Why can’t I do what they do
I want to be able to walk across the night sky
I hate the morning of the sun sky so hot
And none of my friends are outside
Then why only in the darks night sky my friends come outside
And at the dark night sky then and only then
My friends come to meet my eyes
Also when my friends are in the dark night sky
They all say hi with a sign in the sky
So with all this magic of the midnight sky
Why do I cry when I lose that awesome sight
In the night sky When all my friends
Flout to that other night sky
I want to go to that place up high
In that beloved midnight sky
To float with all my star like friends
In this forever night sky
poem by Nick Trager
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Dark writing....
Dark shadows sneak under the door
As I keep writing these dark lyrics more
Of a nature that's not evil or unkind
Rather of disturbing thoughts in my mind.
They say for everything bad it's found
Something good it has to come around
The weather wouldn't be pleasant if wasn't for the rain
These feelings wouldn't exist if it wasn't for the pain.
I'm doing a storm in a cup of water to prepare
Meanwhile around people don't even care
I pray for my life to not end before these stanzas
But mindlessly I write and write looking for the answers.
My cold dark poems are everywhere
Floating around in the midnight air
Listen, closely you have no choice
These dark words, my deep voice.
Where the world is falling apart,
There lies a dark poem of the heart
Dark poems tell the darkest lines
They make you hear their shrieking cries.
Hold dearly onto your ravaged soul;
Don't find you've let life take its toll
Youll find my dark poems are everywhere
Read them, like them, if you dare….
I am the shadow hiding in the dark
The evil sounds that wake you in the night
I'm a shadow lurking in the dark
Because still it always feels so right
So I write my shadowy poems line by line
But I'm constantly over looked
My brain is fried down to the spine
And my broken heart is cooked
I'm left only with part of a heart
That will never again beat
I'm the one person
No one has to meet
I am a shadow lurking in the dark
Writing my poems so deep
Whispering my words so stark
Pray your soul to keep…
poem by Deep Dark Soul Poet
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In Thou dark stormy Night
All alone in the night
All alone with my own fright
A lightning strikes, runs across the dead black sky
I am alone
but I wonder, why?
In Thou dark stormy night
In Thou dark stormy night
I call your name with all my might
All alone hanging in the night
My arms are sore, my soul is light
I hear the thunder, in the cloudy black sky
I am scared
but I don't know, why?
In Thou dark stormy night
in Thou dark stormy night
I call your name with all my might
Inside Your house in the night
Calling Your name with all my might
Father! Father! Why have you forsaken me?
'You must die so my people can be free.'
In Thou dark stormy night
In Thou dark stormy night
Jesus drew his final breath
Saving us all from our own eternal death
poem by Summer Song
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Death of Dusk
The sun resigns,
bleeds out the vestiges –
remnants of the day.
Exsanguination edges into twilight:
red-brown hangs;
upwards darkens:
blue-brown,
blue-black,
death-black,
disquiet – furtive,
like ghoul-ridden fog.
A sombre moon assumes its role,
gushing silver-white lymph upon the muted scape –
a prequel of supernatural undertones
to chill the scene,
ice the spine,
kill the brain –
we have unnerved the very firmament.
But now a shadow closing down the globe:
dinosaurian cloud shrouds the moon glaze,
claims the late hour –
declared in a dying crow caw.
I, the hidden owl
– nemesis of claustrophobic minds –
awake! for mammal flesh –
fresh, jerking out its warmth in dance of death.
Rock-still I perch in sculptured oneness
with my crooked night-tree,
emanating nocturnal allure.
Together we scowl
together we play the dark
upon the land and sky
and mind
while you lie as dead in your box.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
dark dark dark dark night dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night dark dark
dark dark dark dark night dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night dark dark
dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night dark dark dark dark night
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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To Horror
Dark HORROR, hear my call!
Stern Genius hear from thy retreat
On some old sepulchre's moss-cankered seat,
Beneath the Abbey's ivied wall
That trembles o'er its shade;
Where wrapt in midnight gloom, alone,
Thou lovest to lie and hear
The roar of waters near,
And listen to the deep dull groan
Of some perturbed sprite
Borne fitful on the heavy gales of night.
Or whether o'er some wide waste hill
Thou mark'st the traveller stray,
Bewilder'd on his lonely way,
When, loud and keen and chill,
The evening winds of winter blow
Drifting deep the dismal snow.
Or if thou followest now on Greenland's shore,
With all thy terrors, on the lonely way
Of some wrecked mariner, when to the roar
Of herded bears the floating ice-hills round
Pour their deep echoing sound,
And by the dim drear Boreal light
Givest half his dangers to the wretches sight.
Or if thy fury form,
When o'er the midnight deep
The dark-wing'd tempests sweep
Watches from some high cliff the encreasing storm,
Listening with strange delight
As the black billows to the thunder rave
When by the lightnings light
Thou seest the tall ship sink beneath the wave.
Dark HORROR! bear me where the field of fight
Scatters contagion on the tainted gale,
When to the Moon's faint beam,
On many a carcase shine the dews of night
And a dead silence stills the vale
Save when at times is heard the glutted Raven's scream.
Where some wreck'd army from the Conquerors might
Speed their disastrous flight,
With thee fierce Genius! let me trace their way,
And hear at times the deep heart-groan
Of some poor sufferer left to die alone,
His sore wounds smarting with the winds of night;
And we will pause, where, on the wild,
The Mother to her frozen breast,
On the heap'd snows reclining clasps her child
And with him sleeps, chill'd to eternal rest!
Black HORROR! speed we to the bed of Death,
Where he whose murderous power afar
Blasts with the myriad plagues of war,
Struggles with his last breath,
Then to his wildly-starting eyes
The phantoms of the murder'd rise,
Then on his frenzied ear
Their groans for vengeance and the Demon's yell
In one heart-maddening chorus swell.
Cold on his brow convulsing stands the dew,
And night eternal darkens on his view.
HORROR! I call thee yet once more!
Bear me to that accursed shore
Where round the stake the impaled Negro writhes.
Assume thy sacred terrors then! dispense
The blasting gales of Pestilence!
Arouse the race of Afric! holy Power,
Lead them to vengeance! and in that dread hour
When Ruin rages wide
I will behold and smile by MERCY'S side.
poem by Robert Southey
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A Song
Oh night and sleep,
Ye are so soft and deep,
I am so weary, come ye soon to me.
Oh hours that creep,
With so much time to weep,
I am so tired, can ye no swifter be?
Come, night, anear;
I'll whisper in thine ear
What makes me so unhappy, full of care;
Dear night, I die
For love that all men buy
With tears, and know not it is dark despair.
Dear night, I pray,
How is it that men say
That love is sweet? It is not sweet to me.
For one boy's sake
A poor girl's heart must break;
So sweet, so true, and yet it could not be!
Oh, I loved well,
Such love as none can tell:
It was so true, it could not make him know:
For he was blind,
All light and all unkind:
Oh, had he known, would he have hurt me so?
Oh night and sleep,
Ye are so soft and deep,
I am so weary, come ye soon to me.
Oh hours that creep,
With so much time to weep,
I am so tired, can ye no swifter be?
poem by Archibald Lampman
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The Path
There is no turning back from this unending path of mine
Serpent turning back it stands before my eyes
To hell and back it will lead me once more
Its all I have as I stumble in and out of grace
I walk through the gardens of dying lights
And cross over rivers deep and dark as the night
Searching for reasons why time passes by
With every step I take the less I know myself
And every vow I break on my way towards your heart
Countless times Ive prayed for forgiveness
But God just laughed at my face
And this path remains
Leading me into solitude zones
I seek through the darkness my way back home
The journey seems endless but Ill carry on
The shadows will rise and day will fall
And a night turns in dawn
And after the tears this smile all angels grieve with an envious song
When looking into strangers eyes
And I know where I belong
I walk through the gardens of dying lights
And cross over rivers deep and dark as the night
Searching for reasons why time passes by
I seek through the darkness my way back home
The journey seems endless but Ill carry on
The shadows will rise and day will fall
And a night turns in dawn
song performed by by H.i.m. (his Infernal Majesty)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Territory of The Gerasenes
From deep inside
I heard them,
howling hatred
lashing me with my own hands
gashing the rocky tombs
with my own bloody feet.
Late at night
they cursed and fought
deep inside
my aching skull.
I was their prisoner,
and they were many…
But then I saw Him by the lake
and my soul leapt
even as Legion arose
and with my ragged voice raged,
“what will you do to us? ”
My soul cried louder,
“Save me! ”
Hearing us both,
He drove dark spirits
from my unclean breast
and into the beasts poor swine.
Madness cast them
into death’s deep pit
but I could hear only
silence.
Peace
filled me.
My hand moved
only when I commanded,
and what my eyes saw
I clearly viewed.
The people of the village
fearing a man who could
compel demons,
begged Him to leave.
Blind fools!
If only they could see Him
as I do.
As he was going, I begged to go too
and stay forever in the light
of his face.
But this grace
was not
for me alone
He told me to go
and proclaim without fear
how His love saved me
from my soul’s dark night,
and led me here, into
bright paradise,
poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Silent Winds
In that darkness lurking in-between
Deep sleeps and hazy waking
There resides a clear and clean
Whisper of brisk air that has me quaking
Like dark sand running through my fingers
Like water dripping from the leaves of nettle stingers
Smooth and rushing
This dark sand silently gushing
Like the stars in the sky lament
Shining and dark with every twinkling moment
The dark sands of a beach far away
Rushing in the oceans waters astray
Waking once red embers, now black
Like death, revived to enkindle
My heart, the strings have gone slack
Dark sand repair, filling the spindle
The one that holds the flame, it dwindled
Reclaiming that pain so aptly swindled
The peace of mind and half of my light
The candle flickers in black and white
In silent winds, taken aback,
Sweet were those dreams that attack
Sewed into the present and past
Somewhere with dark sands so vast.
poem by Deep Dark Soul Poet
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Shadow in the Dark
I’m a shadow in the dark
The quintessential sound of death
I’m a shadow in the dark
Like the reaper’s icy breath
I’m a statue set in stone
In apathetic sleep
Let the world just pass me by
And I will never weep
I’m a shadow in the dark
The quintessential sound of death
I’m a shadow in the dark
Like the reaper’s icy breath
You don’t have to set me free
You don’t have to light my night
You don’t have to feel my breath
Or step into my line of sight
For I’m a shadow in the dark
You know I’m there but you can’t see
I’m a shadow in the dark
You pass me by, and leave me be.
poem by Justin Robert Cooper
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Weary
Some praise the Lord for Light,
The living spark;
I thank God for the Night
The healing dark.
When wearily I lie,
With aching sight,
With what thanksgiving I
Turn out the light!
When to night's drowsy deep
Serene I sink,
How glad am I to sleep,
To cease to think!
From care and fret set free,
In sweet respite,
With joy I peacefully
Turn out the light.
Lie down thou weary one,
And sink to rest;
Nay, grieve not for the sun,
The dark is best.
So greet with grateful breath
Eternal Night,
When soft the hand of Death
Turns out the light.
poem by Robert William Service
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Midnight
Deep in the bayou en route to la
The merchandise is changing sides
People are hiding and waiting all day
til midnight comes around
Thats when its coming down
And the dreams of a boy
And his shortcut to easy street will die
Back in the city, shes biting her nails
Taking it hard - hes doing it for her
She didnt ask and all he would say
Its what he had to do
To make her dreams come true
But a whisper went round on the dark side of town
And anything that could go wrong
Is going wrong right now
Midnight when it all comes down
Only the brave and the fools are around
Midnight when it all comes down
Poor little fool, his bravery wont help him now
Touchdown on the water and into the trees
Hes come so far and this is the easy part
Just gotta follow the flashlight he sees
And thats where he gets paid
His fortune will be made
But a house in the country
And an acre of green
Will always be a dream
They never even knew his name
Midnight when it all comes down
Only the brave and the fools are around
Midnight when it all comes down
Poor little fool, his bravery wont help him now
[repeat]
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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