Shed From The Spring

What would earth do

When all its spring would have shed away

Into the past of calendars?

The beavers and raccoon

Would steal a part of it with them

That no one could measure

For its meagerness;

And the frogs and the snakes

Would be hidden in its lower space.

For the snow would settle on the bare branches

And warm them for other lives

Which arises from the furnace of hope and faith,

And will spread through the sands

To show its calm at the hour of sleep.

This would be called the beginning of a life

And another spring,

If you ask the earth

Which is shed from its spring.

Wedding Bells

Here comes the wedding scene

In the colds of May

Hanging about the silvering eyes

With the briskness of candle flame.

Going over the previous ages

All the time counts

Blues in the shades of grey

Speaks out.

Speaking of the troubling query

The old man thinks

What would have been otherwise if

Had it not been like this.

And again the heart sinks deeper

To where this interrogatory led

And here comes the wedding scene

Rousing the dead.

With all the years that is left of him

In a smile these aged lips fell;

Dances the weakened heart of this old man

To the sound of wedding bells.

Getting Old

On one of the branches hangs a lonely leaf

In the period of senescence.

Wrinkled, retarded, tired of its time

Covered with dust from its golden days.

Only noticed by the rays of sun

That sieve out through the dead branches

Looks down at an unawaken dog

That still might love its shade.

What would be this poor leaf thinking

Of life, of death, or of strong blows?

Or would it just being seeking blessings

Under the sun's and moon's gaze?