Dusk comes from afar, Rilke.
Twilight came from a distance.
Walking through the whispering pine forest buried in the snow
Then put it on your cheek in winter.
Stick it on all the windows and eavesdrop.
Every room is quiet.
The old man sat on the sofa in deep thought.
Mothers are like queens.
The child doesn't want to start.
Good girls are no longer
Listen to Textile Evening News.
They're inside. Listen outside.