Solen Saknas (The Sun Is Missed)
I miss her like the sun
Filched from our skies
By November the thief.
In this mean season
Streetlamps are milk thin,
Headlights twin insufficiencies.
We are cheered only
By the honest flicker of candles.
And so we enflame the city,
Outdoing Nero's myth by a mile
Burning ours night after night
And day after sullen day.
"Nero fiddled while Rome burned."
Suppose he had done it for lost love:
"If I burn everything..." he thought.
Would the music and light have brought your baby back, you fat, mad ogre?
Would your lover have returned?
Probably not. They generally don't.
Here's my advice --
Light your fires sooner,
Play yourself aflame,
And pay no attention to the sun.