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.