Auf dem Kirchhof
At the Cemetery


The day was passing, rain-heavy and storm-tossed.
I’d visited many a forgotten grave;
Weathered stones and crosses, withered wreaths,
The names overgrown, hardly to be read.

The day was passing storm-tossed, rain-heavy.
On every grave, frozen, the word: Deceased.
As if at the eye of the storm, the coffins slumbered.
On every grave, thawing gently, the word: Recovered.