five drops of drizzle weep

a yellow feather whispers
the poplars have the shivers
one perceives feebly
the sound of a cracked
and aged bell -
from the sky
that one can barely see
five drops of drizzle weep
and on the black hillock
a ruin in silhouette -
the evening that watches out
for sleepiness spreads its muslin sail
the last reflections of the purple
setting sun fall behind the hill
by j. rouge

aloise corbaz, 1886