Goethe's Path
The lovely, purple hyacinths
adorn both sides of the ginger and narrow path,
protected by the tallest firs,
they greet the travelers who fear the storm's wrath.
Many have ridden this long path leading to a town with a small, cozy inn:
mighty kings whose malicious intent was conquest,
humble monks who preached the Gospel to anyone who purged in sin;
all weary travelers stopped there to eat and rest.
I am traveling the same path with a backpack leaving a trial of deep footprints;
it's a long journey that'll end up by late noon or sunset,
will all footprints be erased by rain, will they be remembered in sad refrains?
On my return, any beauty seen will have vanished as mist.
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