TESTO DEL LIED"Alone"
di E. Powys Mathers (1892-1939)
I shall never see your tired sleep
In the bed that you made beautiful,
Nor hardly ever be a dream
That plays by your dark hair.
Yet I think I know your turning sigh
And your trusting arms' abandonment,
For they are the picture of my night,
My night that does not end.