There is a murmur in the wall
it burdens my soul with an eerie call
ponderous thoughts are cast my way
for on my brain they all will prey
They whisper darkness, chill and sorrow
and break the faith for a soft tomorrow
they keep me off my grounded self
and chase me far to treacherous shelf
The night is spreading a leaden sheet
upon my mind so not to heed
the pleasant ballad ascending from
a lucent horizon when morrows come.
Is this murmur an absurd chimaera
a passing, fleeting, cumbersome era?
I have to curse the nighttime raven
and thank Aurora for daylight haven!
Eva van Beek 