Tonight the Heaviness in My Soul
Tonight the heaviness in my soul
hangs over my body like a dark cloud,
and the great shadow of the evening weeps
for what neither of us dare to say aloud.
Tonight the darkness keeps settling in your lap,
and your secrets you reveal by your silence:
I loved you and you loved me once.
Tonight I want to see you from a great distance.
Tonight, untouched by the light from the window,
or by the dull spirit of the lamp overhead,
your eyes tell the story of the book on the table
and of the two of us sitting on the bed.
Tonight winter trees crawl up and entwine
their branches with the yellow parchment of the night,
and beyond the yard, the hills, heavy with rain,
strain under the weight of the moonlight.
Tonight the wind wails in time with the storm,
and you look so sad and so lovely;
you say you have no time, but the rain and the wind
and the night speak only of eternity.
Tonight the heaviness in my heart falls
over me like the words of a bitter prophecy.
It says that we will drift apart like ships passing
on the horizon of an endless, windswept sea.