The Last Hours Of Autumn Poem by Daniel Brick
The Last Hours Of Autumn
Whoever is alone will stay alone,
will sit, read, (and)write long letters
through evening hours....
Rilke
There is a light drizzle falling. I can hear
it tapping a broken rhythm on the awnings
like a novice drummer trying to find a rhythm
which eludes him. When will he stop trying,
and like me join the silence? Soon the drizzle
will change to snow, and lie like a thick coat
of white paint over all I can see of earth.
But not yet: it is still the autumn prelude
of winter. An hour ago, I ventured outside and
saw muddy streets almost shining in the white rain,
almost - because darkness prevailed. It was intensely
quiet. I looked up into the cloudy sky, and felt
I felt warmth from distant stars. I am like a pilgrim,
who has journeyed long, and suddenly sees the outline
of the holy shrine he seeks in the very near distance.
Taping of broken rhythm is heard well with beautiful expression and rich imagery of natural perception. A person moving alone feels glitter of joy of meditation of autumn.Distant stars give warmness. The Holy Shrine is outlined in beam of light. This is an outstanding poem beautifully and brilliantly presented...10
No painting could paint what you have painted here, Feeling, transcends greatly, your canvas As we feel your subjective visions, intensely, Far and near. Excellence needs very little praise, it shines by its own light.
I cannot resist a good nature poem. Well penned Daniel. ++10 Robert
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/4/2024 4:17:10 PM # 1.0.0.1119
The last hours of Autumn- - What a vivid word painting of nature comes through your pen ! There is a light drizzle falling. I can hear it tapping a broken rhythm on the awnings like a novice drummer trying to find a rhythm which eludes him. When will he stop trying, and like me join the silence?