Evening and grief and lamp light
Bury our death-face.
We sit at the window and drop out of it,
Far off day still squints at a gray house.
We scarcely touch our life...
And the world is a morphine dream...
Blinded by clouds the sky sinks.
The garden expires in dark wind -
The watchmen enter,
Lift us up into bed,
Inject us with poison,
Kill the lamp.
Curtains hang in front of the night...
They disappear gently and slowly -
Some groan, but no one speaks,
Our buried face sleeps.
The Sick
Alfred Lichtenstein
(1)
Poem topics: dark, death, dream, grief, house, life, light, night, sky, wind, world, evening, garden, touch, poison, window, gently, Valentine's Day, face, lamp, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about The Sick poem by Alfred Lichtenstein
Best Poems of Alfred Lichtenstein