Stop all the clocks cut off the telephone
Silence the dog with a juicy bone. Close
the pianos and with muffled drum, Bring out the coffin
.
let the mourners come.
airplanes circle, moaning up there
Scribbling on the sky the message
He is dead.
crepe bows round the white necks of the pigeons.
the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves put
.
He was my North, my South, my East and West
,
my working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight,
my talk, my song .
I thought that love would last forever
I was wrong.
no longer need the stars, put out every
,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun
,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the forest
because now nothing can be beneficial.
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