Author Arthur Waley My bed is so empty that I keep on waking up. As the cold increases, the night-wind begins to blow. It rustles the curtains, making a noise like the sea; Oh that those were waves which could carry me back to you! Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments