With Gentle Fingers

With gentle fingers 
The rain is softly 
Playing sad melodies 
On the black instrument of night. 
We are sitting in the darkness, 
Each in his own house 
(The children have fallen asleep) 
Listening quietly to the rain 
Telling our sorrow. 
For we have no more words. 
Our feet have been leadened 
By day. 
There is no dancing 
Left in them. 
Please login or register for free access to Posen Library Already have an account?
Engage with this Source

You may also like