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"Although the day is six feet under..."

Although the day is six feet under,
Your perfume in the air remains
And horses drag the fallen reins,--
Apollo's fallen into slumber.

Like ghosts at night, dark branches sway
And cast long shadows onto walls.
The creaking carriage slowly rolls...
The horses’ hooves sink into clay.

The wearied horses stray and wander.
The night is chilling, cold and grim,
And one by one, the windows dim,
Apollo’s fallen into slumber.

The heavy clouds loom with gray.
They’re undisturbed by northern winds
And leaving only rounded prints
The horses’ hooves sink into clay.

Dark skies are gliding down the lanes.
The moonlight lulls us, softly healing.
Cold corpses lie without feeling
And horses drag the fallen reins.

The darkness fills the empty halls.
Our voices lower to a whisper.
The air is turning colder, crisper.
The creaking carriage slowly rolls...

With frenzy throwing up the curtains,
September rages, filled with spite...
My darling, don’t turn off the light--
We won’t awake the sleeping servants.