This morning I went to take a walk alone
Just the dog, no cell phone.
To walk amongst the fallen leaves,
That had last night sailed from the trees.
I went past a house on York Avenue,
Saw the blood-red leaves still covered in dew.
A man had been murdered there last New Year's Eve,
Now no one was about, but the blood-red leaves.
Alas, he is dead and buried under ground,
And no one here to think on him just me and my hound.
But I thought to myself, 'What the heck,
Maybe someday a stranger too will send his respect.'
When I myself am nowhere around,
Not a memory of either me or my hound.
A stranger's nod and a cleaning of leaves would suffice
To do well on my grave, before the winter's ice.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem