The Graves Say Nothing

After all the dead were in their graves
And the mourners have all gone home,
you can see the dew hanging on the flowers;
Roses colored in white
And the graves say nothing.

A wind is drearily blowing
on the cold light of today's dawn.
Somewhere a child is dying.
Somewhere a mother has no son.
And the graves say nothing.

The morning sky shines red this morning
and casts its rays down on my eyes.
The old moon falls down under
because the night that reigned is gone.
And the graves say nothing.

Will the graves ever return
the souls they have taken in the past?
This morning, with its new light and radiance
sighs, "No, but there will be many more."
And the graves say nothing.