Rowanberry mood

The early evening is greeted by rowan trees,
as if blood had caked on the branches.
Maybe they are holding a wake somewhere?
Maybe someone is cremating their ashes?

A warm light comes on in the windows,
it is probably cozy, warm there.
And the sadness of the rowan trees remains unnoticed. After all, no one cares!?

Dejected people walk by,
someone has had a misfortune.
But no one will console them.
Everywhere; cold and evil fate.

And the rowan trees vegetate in melancholy,
in bitter berries; grief and sorrow.
And no one pities them at all,
and therefore they are very sorry.