With blinding brilliance

The evening dawns at seven.

From streets toward awnings

Darkness marches apace.

People—they are manikins;

Only lust and sadness lead

Them across the universe

Feeling their way by touch.

The heart under the palm

Betrays with its shuddering

Tension of chase and escape,

Glimmers of fright and flight.

Feelings take to liberty

And freedom with ill-ease,

Tearing just like a horse

At the bit of its mouthpiece.