The black snow runs down from the rooftops; A red finger dips into your brow; Blue snow flakes sink into the empty room, They are a lovers’ dying mirrors. Heavy and torn to pieces the mind muses, Follows the shadow in the mirror of blue snow flakes, The cold smile of a deceased harlot. The evening’s wind weeps in the scent of carnations.

"Delirium" by Georg Trakl