There was something about the trees:
Their burning leaves,
Curling up on the ground
In a black-gray fog.
Their burning leaves
A dark sadness, full of regret
In a black-gray fog.
Dead fruit rotting on the earth:
A dark sadness, full of regret,
As our cold tongues inspired to speak like
Dead fruit rotting on the earth.
Would it be so soon our time?
As our cold tongues inspired to speak like
There was something about the trees:
Would it be so soon our time,
Curling up on the ground?
— ptkh 11-11-12