I saw the leaves
Clearer today.
The picture on my wardrobe.
Lonely as it is.
Saw myself from how others
Could paint me,
First time never.
Saw the garden as my home.
My home, not just as my refuge.
I saw the leaves on the bush,
Outside my bedroom.
Their wistful, insistent rustling
Amidst the moaning wind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem