The month of May, a sunny
but I am all alone.
An alleyway, street of decay,
I wander on my own.
Though it is spring, no bird doth sing
to please my lonesome ear.
No happy thing will comfort bring:
The end of joy is near.
Mud on the street may spoil my feet -
it does not matter now.
Not nice nor neat, an empty sheed,
a What without a How.
A walking frame without a name,
all empty and undone.
It’s all the same: Life is a game
and I’m the losing one.
I’ve lost my way and found decay
because I’ve stopped to try.
The sky is gay, my heart fells grey,
and life just passes by.<</span>
Copyright 1995 by Maja Ilisch