The vast blue deep
Is asleep;
Cool and quiet, falls the night.
Atop dark rocks, dying fast,
The last
Crimson ray of sunset light.
The church bell tolls;
Its trembling tones
Over craggy hills resound.
With sighs of endless
Sadness,
Poor folks are prayer-bound.
Skeletal and grey,
They pray
On knees before their God,
But no word
Is heard
From the crucified Lord.
The nearing repose
Is close;
Cool and quiet, falls the night;
Atop dark rocks, dying fast,
The last
Crimson ray of sunset light.
(Translated by Milomir Ilic)