No one’s as luckless as the rain,
When your rainbow clothes don’t reign.
So many tales in books we read —
None tell a sorrow quite this plain.
For wooing the one my heart adores,
No fool like me has ever been seen before.
So many roads, towns, lands in sight,
Yet none like our distance — endless, white.
When scarf and veil from you take flight,
No path remains toward what’s right.
I said, “Hello, how are you, bright day?”
You said, “No one’s so rude this way.”
Wherever I see you, you turn aside —
No blame to you, nor fate, nor tide.
