A great melancholy came about
when one small cloud blocked the sun.
Did I feel this melancholy—
or was it felt by everyone?
I may as well observe
it was the end of a long weekend
at the end of summer
and I desired the sun to shine.
But one small cloud interfered
and the sun was no longer mine.
The cloud represents vanity—
or is it, instead, the sun?
Am I concerned with symbols—
or is it everyone?
We spoke of poetry for days:
What can be said, and how?
Your poem once brought me to tears.
What does that matter now?