Une petite journée

Till I scarcely more than muttered,"Other friends have flown before;

On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said,"Nevermore."

Edgar Allan Poe. "The Raven", 1845.

Clear eyes, plain face
Back home, along the street
There is no fear to feel
There is nobody here to heal.

Close my eyes, save my face
Shallowness is the name
For empty heart, dry eyes
Lonely flight, no sighs.

Sticking to reason
Forgetting the bonds
Never will be the same
I know to seek my fate.

And then, what is to come?
Life thy name is solitude
I cross calmly the gates
Open the door, nobody waits.