The snow falls
And the sky’s grey
Over my head where the roof was set
The night
Where the shadow following me will go
Whose is it
A star or a swallow
At the corner of the window
The moon
And a brown-haired woman
It’s there
Somebody passes and doesn’t see me
I watch the iron gate turn
And the fire almost out which glows
For me alone
But there where I’m going it is deathly cold
(Pierre Reverdy)
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