Last Winter
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Last Winter
I have to use my void quill,
I have to spread ink on paper,
I have to scratch on white rag.
The earth is moving to northern hemisphere,
The warmth of my heart is freezing,
The horizon is gleaming on graveyard.
The earth is a vast cemetery,
The half of our souls is loveless,
Life is a vast Nothingness with musical tinhorn.
The cold wind is blowing often and often,
The earth is getting cold,
Winter will fall with severe sorrow.
The wide light is becoming slim,
Jumping and passing through mist,
Perhaps the last winter I am to muse.
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