Last night I watched you struggling
To break through the window glass
And I watched you freezing,
Dying, as all things pass.

Last night I could have moved you inside
To die, perhaps, but warm, at least,
And cared for at your last bedside,
As your life went and you were released.

Last night I rejoiced at your dance
As you failed to find the open window,
Your frenzied need of my warm entrance;
Now you are dead, who shall tell your widow?

Is the life of a fly to be so worthless?
I did not kill you, did I?
Yet I stood by and watched you die, hopeless.
Why do I feel guilty because of the death of a fly?