In the Shade

To YouSoon the autumn will be burnedAll its weeping flowers will be washed by the snowThe time of mourning is still awayAnd the road is shortThe dreary night comesBurdened with a smell of absence Your face, when I miss it, turns to a sweet inhalation With a taste of nectarFrom a distance, his voice, running, came to me From behind the whispers of the clouds and the murmurs of the rainI closed this door and that windowMy fingers were muting my hearingBut it enteredPulsated with my pulsingAnd lightened the darkness that was here