Once again it skims past my temples dropping leaves
Early morning, its call cold and resounding
Ten degrees Celsius
One line of which I believe
Is colder than Heaven
Perched on the roof, facing the sun
It starts to plot
Something today, cruel but in no way hypocritical
That final nothingness has nothing
Whatsoever to do with its utter blackness
And the groundless talk of legend has
Nothing to do with it being auspicious or not
The poplar whispers
The flock of crows is always one step ahead of me
When it comes to finding autumn
They have nothing to despair
They are always one step ahead of me
In taking flight to soar high
Into the sky to an unbearable desolation
In recent years, solitary places have been our choice
Pick
The tallest tree
Look down on the world, let strength of character
be hung out in the wind
One leg enough to counter the weirdness of time
Flapping both wings
Softly beating with the rhythm of the universe
The breath of the sun
My own breath