It is Night A night of deep darkness. On a branch of the old fig tree A frog croaks without cease, Predicting a storm, a deluge, and I am drowned in fear. It is night, And with night the world seems like a corpse in the grave; And in fear I say to myself: "What if torrential rain falls everywhere?" "What if the rain does not stop until the earth sinks into the water like a small boat?" In this night of awful darkness Who can say in what state we will be when dawn breaks? Will the morning light make the frightening face of the storm disappear?