The noonday gold is tainted copper-brown.
The sun with goodbye rays low on the sky,
A blinking tear-inflamed gigantic eye,
With backward gaze, goes off in a slow drown.
As if blood ebbed right from a heart, here lies
A red blaze on the window of the house.
A moment... and the spectral red is doused
And now the house lies plundered of its prize.
House in the dark. No light from lamp or wood.
Is the master asleep or mute for good
Never to wake to ray-rich dawn again?
All through the house: no light, no light, no light.
The muted window fixates on the night
With one dew-moistened, apathetic pane.
Shall we, my darling, ever meet again?