Warp
Is morning and I am driving;
Carefully watch the sides,
Left and right and asphalt,
As well as the clouds in sky.
The road is Persian rug,
Worn to end, see the knots…
In my mind imagine
Sitting by old lady
And her loom, strings
Of the wool in colours.
And she weaves
Next to her, cat, silly
Looks as she is knitting
Like baby to nanny...
The sky wears grey
Very thin like young girl
Exposing her frame…
See the leaves lying there
Dead, simple, yellow, pale.
They carry this message:
"Great is this colour,
Sexy, calm of heaven…"
I think of the monks in
Yellowish wear, cover
Wish peace for people.
The tree hovers like
A fighter with pride:
"Stand firm and never
Show weakness or bow or
Extend hand like beggars! "
Therefore, hope to die while
Standing like tree…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem