Night

Dark, black, giant butterflies
killed the sunshine.
Like a closed magic book,
the horizon rests-hidden.

From the smoke of forgotten depths
wafts a fragrance, killing the memory!
Dark, black, giant butterflies
killed the sunshine.

And from heaven toward earth
sink with heavy swinging
the invisible monsters
down upon the hearts of mankind...
Dark, black, giant butterflies.

~Albert Giraud
Part of "Pierrot lunaire"
A song cycle by Arnold Schoenberg,
Trans. Unknown