The festival is finished. All too soon
The revelers will leave the sullen street
And creep back to their daytime homes to meet
The thoughts and fears they left behind at noon.

Such thoughts and fears to me would seem a boon...
I have no home. No friends except my feet.
The festival is finished. All too soon
The revelers will leave the sullen street.

The owner shakes his head. "I have no room,"
He says. And so my soul crawls off to sleep
Beneath the balcony. The rain and sleet
Are cold. And now the clouds obscure the moon.
The festival is finished all too soon.