Early autumn dusk
People climb stairs stained by the bloody broken
Sun
Man woman
Men and women
Loafing or in a rush
On the street
Ads and sailor shirts
The player talks through his sobbing guitar
Their songs fill the whole summer
They’ve rasped their throats hoarse
Singing till deep autumn singing till broad leaves
Fall
They are waiting
Waiting in solitude waiting stubbornly
Crowds quiver crowds stop in their tracks

This season is a borderline
As are rivers and marshes
Their songs are tantalizing
Their songs grieve, are solemn
Those singers those sun singers
Stubborn confirmation forever confirms
Behind the shrieking wind and bitter rain of the 20th
Century

There must be a heavy snow
Crowds open windows
Crowds throng outside
Crowds will join in chorus
Play guitar and sing out
All the fears of the 20th century
Will resonate in countless songs

This is proclamation
Among all other voices
This is the singer’s voice
Coming from his chest
A voice from the canyons of his throat
A voice of gentleness
Listen: the place exposing sunlight and air
Also exposes me
Exposes the earthquaking growth

Deep autumn dusk
The singers’ shadow floats across the land
Their hearts merge with the shadow of sunlight
With sun they will
Expose all the secrets of the 20th century