Gustav Klimt, Fir Forest 1, 1901 |
Communications
Nature is a temple where many a living column
Sometimes muffled words whistles;Man enters there through forests of symbols
That look upon him familiarly solemn.
Like long echoes that overlap far away
In a homogenous, deep darkness,
Expansive like the night and the brightness,
Aromas, colors, sounds dialogue in the leigh.
The perfumes smell fresh like children’s flesh,
Sweet like oboes, green like meadows,
— Yet others triumphant, rich, enmeshed
Expansive like infinite shadows,
Like amber, resin, incense and musk,
Singing the transports of mind and the senses at dusk.