Ashen Heart and Chilled Resolve
Softly I go, just as I softly came;
I grasp my hands tightly, begging the brilliant dusk to stay.
The feet on which I stood you’ve hacked;
how can I even attempt seven steps?
The stench of burnt beans wafts out your Eastern window;
Yet you prance in your crown of charred bean stalks.
My glass of wine has long dried, and the cellars have long since soured;
Savour that glass you guard so jealously, for dusk’s infinite beauty holds no sway over eternity.
Silently I go, just as I silently came;
My hands hang empty, and I depart with dark clouds merely.