Gloomy Days

With stars mislaid their lustre,
Deserted garden,
With no sign of verdure
Shepherd lost his flock to the demon,
A night with no stars over the head,
With no sign of sun
Time running over his head,
Sitting in this forlornness,
Inner voices are dead,
Words are there but cannot say them,
Days are turning
Gloomy within the breast,
Devoured by a green-eyed monster,
Spring of beatitude turned away,
Days no more gratifying at his will!