The strange
damp smell of leaves decaying
reminds me of cloudy days,
pools of black
glistening, fields lying fallow,
birds whirring,
little blue flowers on trimmed lawns,
grey brick mansions with portals and stairs,
lines of washing, and
a lady with long skirt
and lap dog
walking through hedged paths
in the distance.
Leaves decay on a rich man's estate
because that's where you find
gardens.
I believe Charles (below) said it all in his comment. I loved this poem, it evoked memories of damp leaves in gardens, and the ending brings us all a jolt of realism.
beautiful language the images so strking and the tale concludes with a brutal truth of how the world works: the rich and their lands while poor folks simmer on conrete a wonderful poem
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Precisely written, with sharp imagery. A short walk with vivid clarity to the thrusting point of a much deeper contemplation. Bravo, good poet! NB :)