As She Passes

When I am sitting at the window,

Through the panes, which the snow blurs,

I see the lovely images, hers,

She passes… passes… passes by…Over me grief has thrown its veil:-Less a creature in this

And one more angel in the sky.

When I am sitting at the window,

Through the panes, which the snow blurs,

I think I see the image, hers,

That's not now passing… not passing by…Translated by J.

Griffin