Maurice Maeterlinck (1862-1949). Belgian playwrigth and poet.
She told me to await her by the fountain. I have a wish to see her in the dusk.... I would see if the night will give her pause. Will she not have a little silence in her heart? I never saw the autumn wood more weird than tonight. I never saw the wood darker than tonight. By what light shall we see each other? I cannot make out my own hands. But what are all those points of light about me? Have all the owls in the park come here? Away! Away! To the graveyard! back to the dead! Are you the guests for a wedding night? Here I am with hands like a grave-digger's now! Oh, I shall not come back here very often! Hark, she is coming! Is it the wind? Oh, how the leaves are falling about me now! There is a tree that is absolutely stripped. And how the clouds fidget across the moon! Ah! these are weeping-willow leaves that are falling so on my hands. Oh! I should not have come hither! I never saw the wood more grewsome than tonight. I never saw so many ill omens as tonight. She comes!
(extract from Princess Maleine)