Page:The Way of the Cross, Doroshevich, tr. Graham, 1916.djvu/75

 Rh Stars are scattered about in the sky as on a winter night—so many there are.

In their light the sky appears darkly, darkly, blue.

And, as if enchanted, the dark black forest comes to life.

On the right, on the left, there, here, near at hand, in the depths, through the thicket of fine black branches gleams the red of large fires.

Pillars of sparks arise and float above.

It is as if fireworks were being let off in the forest.

The sweet scent of burning wood is in the air.

The farther we go into the forest the stronger is this scent, the oftener do we meet the fires.

And it seems as if we are not in the forest at all—but as if a kind of illuminated endless town were stretching itself out upon the road.