Lesser Elegy

Friends departed. My love sleeps distantly
and outside is the massive dusk.
I speak words. They are white from the lamp
and end half-heartedly as I doze
I think of my mother. Autumnal memory.
Really, before Winter, as if everything was known
what my mother is probably doing now.
She's at home, in peace. She has a child's stove
up to which I would always trot on my hobby horse.
She has a child's stove, from which, long ago, no heat came
but they warme her. Mother; my mother. Is quiet,
hands clasped, thinking of father
who is already dead
and then she peels fruit for me.
I am at her side, with her. Surely you see us
Lord, you evil thing, who brought so much.
How dark it is outside. What ws I saying?
Oh! I know what I wanted to say
after all the hours during which I sweetly slept
and after all these costly slumbers
that now, when autumn comes and everything, even days, get shorter
I don't know how to be alone, with only a lamp
which force ...
and will no longer live.