Moans

Look at the cloud, how it cries like a grieving man. Thunder moans like a lover with a broken heart. Now and then the sun peeks from behind the clouds like a prisoner hiding from the guard.

Both hands are labouring the fierce knots to pull; / black gore and slime his sacred wreaths distain. / Loud are his moans.

Scarce spake I, suddenly the bays divine / shook, and a trembling seized the temple door. / The mountain heaves, and from the opening shrine / loud moans the tripod. Prostrate on the floor / we her a voice:

Stefan heard the moans again.

The moans were coming from the window.

He is letting out moans.