Head by Karl Schmidt-Rottluff (1915)
Last night arose
Beneath my window
A golden gleaming sun.
Steady glare of the streetlight
And a troupe of dancing rain
A whirling expressionist woodcut
Etched onto the tarmac plain.
I watched transfixed
As the sky raged
And the tears began to swim.
I watched transfixed
And willed the glum fog
Inside me to lift.
But what warmth could I borrow?
What light could I seek?
What courage could I muster?
From a pool of damp lies and dreams?
To watch it transfixed
With hope and patience
And a quiet desperate might,
Was only a weak trick
To get through the black, black night.
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