The Fall

The melee of colors,
The pandemonium of wind!

The hunchbacked sun
Crawls into its bed
Before the onset of the night!
And if it were not for the compassionate rain,
The fire that has caught on to the forest,
Would burn the trees
Much like my heart
That is burning in the fire of love!
Do not take away my tears from me!

My petunias could not endure the morning cold.
What a futile expectation!
I watch my petunias die,
As would a medicine man
A dying warrior in his final throes!
Powerlessness is the onset of hopelessness.

This is a season of a different sort:
A time that –
In its pre death struggle –
Disturbs the green of tranquility
With the red of fireworks!
This is how love is
In this late season!