Dusk devours ground Like a hyena devouring A piece of carrion Wind wipes the dark molded dungeon You can hear a whistle Among the trees Thorny bush entwines Forged cross Dawn like a vivid glare Rushes from the slabs of stone On the edge Of one of them A root is searching for water But it will fail to find it there The wind is chasing A faded leaf It doesn't want to fall It doesn't want to rot But it is falling No one will help