From The Last Gold of Expired Stars, Georg Trakl:
In the evening, when the bells ring peace,
I follow the wonderful flight of birds
That in long rows, like devout processions of pilgrims,
Disappear into the clear autumn vastness.
Wandering through the dusk-filled garden
I dream after their brighter destinies
And barely feel the motion of the hour hands.
Thus I follow their journey over the clouds…
