segunda-feira, 26 de setembro de 2011

Leaves

Leaves

I see the yellow leaves depart by now.
Above the highest branches they swing an fly
So softly and swiftly through a trembling trot.
Why?

Why does the ravenous winter devour all?
All the remaining beauty of spring time
And summer shine. The green grass
Turned into a white present of a forgotten past
A memory of lost memories,
A memory of lasting sighs.

Why do I still stand upon this land
Where there is nothing more for me?
I`ll go now.

But wait! What I see?
Is there another leaf upon that tree?
A lonely sign of youth's demise.
Let me stand and contemplate.
Before the sadder days and winter grieves,
Before this last remaining leaf of mine
Leave.

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