My first night in Leuven, your messy dirty room
was scented with the flavor of the apples you had brought home from the farm where you worked.
I couldn't see them. They were scattered somewhere in the dark corners of the room.
"Sometimes the apples smell so bad, and I have to search the whole room to look for them", you said.
I didn't know that would be haunting,
as I didn't know Camilo with chestnut trees in Brusselstraat would be the place to live my last days in Leuven,2007.
I left there a year of little happiness, just like the previous years.
Where I am living now is filled with autumn
Shiningly red apples on the tables. Oh! How poetic they are.
Picking up apples from the trees, I have never done it
Sorting out apples into categories, I have never done it
The scent of the apples in the dark corners that year makes me cry.
Create Date: October 18,2011
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem