An Autumn Elegy
Turn the season,
golden morn.
Of fragrant mists,
where woodland scents
from under-foot,
infuse the moment
with crushed content.
When other muses
dance in Spring,
or laze beneath
an azure sky,
I feast upon
this ripened time,
intoxicated by your form.
Banquet of all seasons,
I take my fill.
Russet-red
before my eyes,
the pallet-mix
of nature's hand.
Geese squadrons
wedge the door
that lets in winter.
She does not die;
she does not sleep:
this adolescent,
mixed-up child.
Wise as an old man
with stubble chin,
that guards the concrete
smoothness held within.
You beg me
to Remember, Remember;
as if some melancholy
should hold me still.
You are no past lover,
nor transitory soul.
You do not wait
or call me to you.
I gaze as you turn
towards me once again.
Fragrant mist has turned the season with beautiful perception. We gaze on its beauty. Fragrant mists adore moon. Brilliant poem is shared here is interesting...10
Loved this sanza so elegant... When other muses dance in Spring, or laze beneath an azure sky, I feast upon this ripened time, intoxicated by your form. And what a line it is... You are no past lover, nor transitory soul. Quite a successful try.. dear poet I loved it so much. Thanks for this lovely sharing. 10+++
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A nice poetic imagination, Martin. You may like to read my poem, Love and Lust. Thanks