no more candles, child
really, none
can’t remember the year they were gone without a trace
I do remember – it was snowing, fifty years ago
White – that was God’s evening in November
but I don’t remember candles, without a trace, gone

I will go away
really in darkness
I will sit on the fence
that was painted in summer
oh, my dears –
is it really in darkness

you just say to yourself
someone will pass by
fumbling in the dark, searching for someone dear
as if, God forbid, there is no more moon
fumbling the dark for someone dear

you just say to yourself
the candles, gone, without a trace –
and the old man at the church selling
cheap paintings doesn’t sit there anymore
swapping them for sticky-finger sweets
that he would offer to children during holy mass
not anymore –
dead and forgotten

oh, my God
is it possible? in the dark
will I have to stay
suffering through that darkness