Ceaselessly

The rain ceaselessly was falling. The light of the lamps did not pass through the leaden curtains of the downpour. The back alleys of the city were silent and cold. On the cobbles of the street was muddy water, and bubble after bubble burst in the wind and with a muffled sound spilled into the water, was lost in the water. The image of nothing upon nothing stayed still, and no bridge was built by the flights of any dove, by the flights of any bird, from the roof of any house to the roof of any other house. A cold ash kept covering bright objects. On a page of an open book the sun was shining, yellow and brilliant, on the wings of a bird in flight in the blue sky. The rain ceaselessly was falling...