|To love and not be loved
is no reward at all
for the lonely heart of a broken man
who seeks the warmth in Fall.
Vigorously he will pursue
a little bit of sun
which glimmers dim when dusk has come
to darken hope when night's begun.
He stumbles over blind endeavour,
for truth he cannot see,
his hands go out to break the fall
but he comes down on his knees.
Tears run down his jagged face
as he sees the moon appear:
dusk is gone, night has come;
once again, Winter's here.