One might feel lonely at the grave.
For ever deprived of honest light,
and the lawlessness of the winds,
and the purity of the coming dawn.

A starless nightfall must befall
on those eyelids that at last close;
On a pointless slumber that follows
maybe the soul is its dream.

The tombstone - a window
To inform whom passes by
About the dreamer beneath -
one who, lonely, standing lies.