What would you take
from a crestfallen poet?
Another silent drill of acquiescent words!
The syntax that would transcribe
the sunshine never returned,
The moonbeam which lost its way in cobweb,
The swelling dark lake.
See the shadow in the mirror
A blue-necked in the void, the destitute man
those were there,
Which are lying still
And even those, which will never be -
The colors of Autumn, the borrowed Spring
to fill the vase.