by Christian Morgenstern (tr. E.M. Valk)
The Moonsheep stands in the open plain,
waiting, waiting, for the shears' refrain.
The moonsheep pulls a single blade
and then goes home to his alpine glade.
The moonsheep, dreaming, does with himself converse:
"I am the dark space of the universe."
The moonsheep in the morn lies dead.
His body's white, the sun is red.