November then came
And with it the rains
Which struck against my window.

What can be done?
For Winter will soon come.
Prithee, does any soul, know?

And what be of those Tears
Which the deaf cannot hear,
Falling from the face of Heaven, cold?

November, it jeers
While I gather the Tears,
Lest they perish on my window.

For with them I might bribe
Spring to come back swiftly alongside
And I will kiss my love under the first full moon’s glow.

Original concept
19 November 2003


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