The rain is screaming aloud;
In the rumbling is lonely lost
The crying of the deer, cowed.

I cannot sip the char at window;
Behind the bushes is hobbling
The innocent with a severe blow

By the fangs of the hardy hunter;
Fortunately escaped, but maimed;
The death is only over that wire.

My fingers flutter; the cup shatters;
She's still seeking to stand on her hind legs;
Ah, her breaths are in more fetters.

I sink to the floor at her last falling;
Tragedy is their ever circling clock;
May her fawns, if born, live longer, smiling.