Starry sky.
To restrain the beast
my rifle glows,
to fix the black barrel
to the milky moon.
The cry of the Snowy Owl.
A baby whimpers in the village.
The bullet,
treacherous wolf,
bursts into the sleeping house.
The night smells of lime-tree blossoms.
Ernst Toller
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sentry-4/
