BARCAROLE

By Luis G. Dato

Sing me a song of sorrow,
Such as the lone bird knows,
When night sits over the waters,
And withered is the rose.

Morning is red in the mountains,
Hours fly on golden wings,
Song is asleep on the branches,
Stirring, but no bird sings.

Where is the lost one singing,
The lone one chilled with rain,
Ever in lulls of the tempest
Unweary singing again?

Life is a song in the twilight,
Heart, will not morning wane?
Sing me a song of sorrow,
Send me a shaft of pain.

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