Cosmos Lady

a blossom of a roadside cosmos seems rather sad because colorless, raises the eyes to find the tomorrow at the moment when wind stops and roams, through the rifts the wind cunningly manipulates, to look back the trying passage the cosmos lady tall and slender, a lonely and pathetic woman, “why are you humming berceuse Jocelyne, while rocking an empty cradle? whom do you wait for in this chilling night, under the moonbeam scatter the fallen leaves?” for she is not able to conceive a baby, plucks a star from the sky beyond the morning glow the other side of daybreak; she wraps a star in the blanket instead of a baby the woman never had, and tightly holds it in her bosom pressing her cheek against the folded blanket, and walks on the cold morning dews for another day yet to come. nevertheless, each time she takes a step forward the west wind hastily returns to retrace its own footmarks which it has left in a bygone day, and compels her reminisce unpleasant memories, the memories of whole of bad fruits once the west wind has had carried away