Next to my friend, the Autumn,
I walk on the rust of time
that piles up as fallen leaves on the footpath,
and I leave behind
the last forbidden apple trees
I always meditate with my friend:
He shows me that the leaves fly in his name
and the ruined gardens we have crossed
are the oblivion that we will be
I also owe him the cold coat
soothing the burning sensation
left by the mirages of remote summers,
and the drizzle that, like an imaginary weeping,
falls upon the dry boughs of the utopian tree
which I saw growing up in my youth
Today, the promise of dawn
welcomes my way in the mist
and I trust to go on with my Autumn friend
toward the sadness and beauty of his plans.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'Today, the promise of dawn welcomes my way in the mist and I trust to go on with my Autumn friend toward the sadness and beauty of his plans. '...is a beautiful stanza indeed. Enjoyed the poem thoroughly.
Hi my friend. Thanks for your comment. A. Johns