THE NIGHT deepens and the dying flame flickers in the lamp.
I forgot to notice when the evening-like a village girl who has filled her pitcher at the river a last time for that day-closed the door on her cabin.
I was speaking to you, my love, with mind barely conscious of my voice-tell me, had it any meaning? Did it bring you any message from beyond life's borders?
For now, since my voice has ceased, I feel the night throbbing with thoughts that gaze in awe at the abyss of their dumbness.