A half past Six
Darkness claims its hold,
The sole solace he finds,
Oh Jonne!
What a shadowed stroll for the young!
The friends and foes
Flutter like birds to their nests
Jonne and dumb now lives
Under one furnished room
Oh, the Sun!
Why must you cease your descent,
Denying Jonne a taste
Of fleeting joy on this path?
What a bitter journey Jonne!
—
The sun retreats slowly,
Eclipsing the only happiness
That propels Jonne forward
A joy short-lived,
After nature\'s light fades.
Oh Jonne!
Your heart has gone
Your heart is waning
Your fleeting bliss paves its way
It\'s hidden by the concealed sun
Under the horizon deep
Your lips come alive
Only when darkness conceals
Oh, this world!
Oh, young orphaned!
What a pity!
Your tender heart,
Now a crimson heap
A cross, the signal of the head.
With whom will you converse,
Now that she rests in silence?
Who will guide you,
Now that he is but a heap of clay?
Who will rouse you for the morrow,
While they slumber
Deeper than your rest?
Oh the bitter sphere!
You\'re harsh to the hearted,
Unkind to the tender-hearted.