Oh, gently rocking afternoon, give me peace—
I will lie down too, and work later.
The light of your sun is already hanging on the hedges,
and yonder the evening comes across the hills.

They have killed a cloud, its blood is falling on the sky;
below, on the stems of the glowing leaves
sit wine-scented yellow berries.  ~ Miklos Radnoti

Via this site.

In 1944, Miklos Radnoti marched across Hungary with other Jews. He lived with the reality that the Nazis would shoot him at any time. Yet he kept a notebook of poems tucked in his field jacket’s pocket. Somehow, he sneaked out a pen, and despite his terror, fear, and weariness, he wrote a series of poems.

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