In an Old Family Album
Always you return, melancholy,
O meekness of the lonely soul.
A day glows golden until the end.
Humbly the patient one knuckles down before grief
Resounding with harmony and gentle madness.
See! It grows dark already.
Again night descends and a mortal laments
And another commiserates.
Shuddering under autumn stars
The head bows more deeply each year.
© Jim Doss & Werner Schmitt