The rainy street is grey
And water glistens everywhere
In the gutters and the hollow windows.
Thoughts flashing in my brain,
While I walk the orphaned streets:
Where are the blossoms of spring,
While autumnal skies tell of decay?
Peculiar smell of transitoriness;
Fallen leaves on dirty pavements.
Black nights and starless skies
Where is the cold chill of winter
With ity myriads of tiny lights?
Rainclouds and grey confusion
Where is the bright glow of summer
With its thousands of voices and colours?
Rain blows into my turned-up collar
And autumn-loneliness becomes my chill.
I shudder and turn my steps away
From this intermediary mess.