The garden scatters burnt-up beetles br Like brazen ash, from braziers burst. br I witness, by my lighted candle, br A newly blossomed universe. br br And like a not yet known religion br I enter this unheard of night, br In which the shabbily-grey poplar br Has curtained off the lunar light. br br The pond is a presented secret. br Oh, whispers of the appletree! br The garden hangs-a pile construction, br And holds the sky in front of me.