State Library of NSW
[Page 207]
12.12.17
Belgium
My dear Sister
A few days ago I sent home a song in French copied from a paper dropped from a German balloon near our camp. I do not know if you have attempted the translation.
Evening that falls from the heavens like the wing of a wounded bird, Evening which like blood - beautiful evening flows on red ripples which the darkness creates. When I am unhappy it makes me sing. Evening immobile and calm like a sleeping place, Evening bathed with perfume an unknown resting place where the errant & bruised come to rest. I sooth in it, thou praises the sicknes which me torments.
For thy song sung with a trembling heart. The infinitude of thy charm, oh evening
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