826 | Wind of Solitude

Painting by Tyoma

Wind of Solitude

What wind of solitude, cunning and strange,
is gusting wildly through this little night?
Why does it come, relentless, galloping on,
and savagely strike the barren leaves of the heart?

And this radiant, tender full moon
that spreads its gold from edge to edge of the sky-
why does it not send even a little light
to all the souls who walk alone tonight?

And the night that arrived, uncanny, at the windows,
why does it shroud them in a deathlike hush
and, instead of rare and holy balms for pain,
send goblets brimming over with poison?

O wind of solitude, O brimming moon,
and you, primordial Night, daughter of Chaos,
come – soothe the lonely souls,
grant them some forgetfulness, and yet some hope.

Panagiota P. Lambri, Greece