As a dry leaf tumbles
on a dead,
cold winter’s night,
I walk down a hill
with no name,
as it leads me to nowhere.
I wander around,
lonely,
looking for some place
to find comfort, comfort
from myself and others.
But, it is that
rustling leaf
which satiates my
longing, though I was
startled at first hearing
it scrape across the
pavement, as I was
startled when I broke
the womb, bursting into
this world
naked and alone.
This simple pleasure
provides me with some
sort of strength,
courage to continue
along this path and
face the winters ahead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem