A Half Past Six

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.