The Confusions of Autumn, a Poem

Translated…

A Mountain Has its Own Thoughts

A Tree, with Feelings of Its Own, with a Red Leaf that’s Hidden

Every Autumn

not my photograph…

That Solitary Leaf Would, Sway in my Left Atrium, Hanging Down;

Wandering, Not in the Depth of the Mountains

But Deeper Into the Mountains, More Distant, Inside the Right Chambers of My Heart

And I Would, Think of You

not my animation here…

The Punishment from the Autumn, without the Trials Preceding

Without Asking Reasons, Those Leaves Turned Red, as They All, Should

Not Due to the Maple Trees

Not Due to the Pines, Not Because of You

Not Because of Me, We’d All Made the Same Mistakes

By the Same Token, I Shouldn’t be Missing You

regretting over something here…not my photo.

Or Think about My Own Guilts

I’d Originally Thought

Everything We’d Originally Thought, Had All Been, Mistaken

So, there’s that scent of regret here, because you’d done something you shouldn’t have, but, because of a longing of sorts, you keep on repeating that same wrong behavior over, over, and over again, because you’re ruled by your emotions, and NOT your sound judgments…

 

 

 

 

 

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