The clothes I tied around myself

Cling to my body, drenched—

But still the evening does not come;

The sky seems bloody red.

My knees give up on me as I

Reach down, my basket falls

Eyes around me widen

And I know that Death now calls.

Oh sun why won’t you set on us?

We throw on you our trust—

We pray your open arms will weaken,

Golden rays will rust

But still the light will blind my eyes,

My breath is dying quick;

And every step I try to take

Is greeted by a whip.