Evening Song of Thanksgiving
Most of the nude and swaying countryside
still speaks with sad,shreking and mournful sounds;
its stripped trees are bulky and tepid
as moisture continuously ascends from the languid ground!
Only a pensive,middle-aged man walks
curiously along the wide paths
flanked by jasmine,
and a casual pine:
where the marvis pauses,unmindful
of the gray squirrel!
Yet,incredibly,some shy violets shows
its frosty petals from among the dry,russet leaves;
how unhappy it is from that useless shelter...
regardless of the coming sorrow of its annual fate!
The wandering white-haired man
is very impressed by the tranquil landscape,
and occasionally stops a second,delighted,
to catch a glimpse of the glaring sun!
Some faint voice quivers into the intensifying darkness;
it's heard often...never to dominate the stillness!
Another clearer voice follows after that first one,vibrating:
it's the evening song of thanksgiving!
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