The falling of narrow leaves from tall trees
At the end of the summer
Is lovely,

The quiet of any evening anywhere
When it has just gotten dark

Distant music,

But in sadness all music is distant and the only palpable lovelinesses are:

Warm water from the tap on your hands
When you come in from the cold

Your mother's tea in her kitchen
And the wiping of your tears

Fine food,

But in misery any food is fine and the only soothing you can taste is:

By now it is time. A time that you can go to sleep
And your sister says that it's fine that you won't make it
You can,

Suffer too
To crying music

Uninterrupted sleep,

But down here nothing will be interrupted
and you can only
dream of narrow leaves.