Are you my love,
Or have angels descended so low?
Are you my love,
Or someone I barely know?
I shout at your window – or rather, a wall,
'Cause you don't answer my desperate call.
My words become louder,
The air turns to gunpowder.
"Get out of here!"
You blow up in anger.
It seems I'd better go out of sight,
But who will accompany me in my fight
With absolute loneliness?
As I take my leave,
Windows, one by one, lose their light.
So, wine!
More wine!
No need to tell me that I'm already fine —
I still can walk in a line.
I'm not drunk,
I'm just tired,
That's it.
Shit!
Had we met before, I'd devote you a poem,
Had we met before, I'd build you a palace,
But all my verses are lost, alas!
And my hands shake treacherously. For us...
I likely can do nothing.
Are you still here?
Who was I saying all this to?
Why just one bottle? I'll take two!
I mean, what was her name?
Was there a girl at all?
Ah, all the same.
Does one need a name?
I have no...
...Nothing to cover myself from the cold.
Will that damn night ever grow old?
As for now, you'd hardly greet me well,
Considering how I look and smell...
No... Angels are unlikely ever to fall
So low.
It's really cold, but I am so weary.
I have no home? I mean, really?
Well, wine will hardly warm me up.
And here are some clothes to wrap up...
...
The lights went out; the night retreated.
The tramp's heart gave its final beat.