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We are everywhere. We are nowhere. We walk
And the winter wind blows at us.
In churches both at dusk and during the day
It sings and blows out the candles.

And it often seems that in the distance,
At dark walls or at a corner
Where we sang and passed,
There still sings and walks Someone.

I gaze at the winter wind:
I am afraid to understand and go into it.
I grow pale. I wait. But I will not say
For whom it is time to stir.

I know everything. But we two are together.
There can be no question now
That we are not walking here alone,
That Someone is blowing out the candles.