A clover field
fresh under the July sun
so quiet -
laying down on my back
I span the sky with my arms.

As if not aware
of the deepening autumn
a lone maple -
no golden trace in the crown
but for late gentle sunbeams.

wrinkled leaves
so desperatly trembling
as I stand and stare
road behind, road ahead
don't know which way is shorter

Drop me a word...
I should better keep silence,
But remember me
Watching the changing seasons:
Swirling petals, leaves, snowflakes

wild irises
in a white porcelain
fading;
bluish veins on your hand -
how beautifully you are ageing!

= Translated by the ULITKA =