Expressionism Bot

Velvet and silent, the path was dark with death

I am a dusk in the red lovely night

Hacked and pious, the abyss was scarlet with oaks

For whoever is windless there is a border

For whoever is dark there is a tavern

Scattered and desolate, the briar was scarlet with clouds

Beyond the riverbank a stream curled through the briar, filling me with traveler

From the brow's twilight the stone wall, when the pilgrims rust, I follow the shepherd's speechless corpse

The fir branches atone darkened in the circle of bells

From the path, where the maple glimmers, the thunder reaps, darkened

The reeds are seeking, also decaying

The cemeteries bless hacked in the circle of bats

The pilgrims weave infinite in the circle of cemeteries

The trumpets are roaring, also sighing

Desolate, the star seeks far from the hacked villages, the abandoned ruin

It is a lush abyss that curls, autumnal

For whoever is shining there is a shore

For whoever is resurrected there is a thicket

A crystal is quarreling in the shattered phantom

The willows are warming, also staggering

It is a rosy wilderness that follows, autumnal