There are no roads but the frost,

And the pumpkins look haggard.

The ants have gone down to the grave, crying

God spare them one green blade.

Failing the grass, they have abandoned the grass.

All creatures who have died today of old age

Have gone more than ten miles already.

All day I have slogged behind

And dreamed of them praying for one candle,

Only one.

Fair enough. Only, from where I stand,

I can see one last night-nurse shining in one last window

In the Home for Senior Citizens.

The white uniform flickers, the town is gone.

What do I do now? I have one candle,

But what’s the use?

If only they can catch up with twilight,

They’ll be safe enough.

Their boats are moored there, among the cat-tails

And the night-herons nests.

All they have to do now

Is to get one of those lazy birds awake long enough

To guide them across the river.

Herons fly low, too.

All it will take is one old man trawling one oar.

Anybody can follow a blue wing.

They don’t need my candle.

But I do.