the tales of ise
*******
And he cut off a piece from the hem of his hunting robe, dashed off a poem on it, and had it sent in to them.
*******
Could that be the same moon?
Could this be the spring of old?
Only I am as I have always been,
but without you here
*******
Has the autumn come?
There are so many drops
I confuse them with the dew,
but falling on my sleeves
are floods of joyful tears.
*******
Though the end of spring was approaching, he picked a branch of beautiful red maple leaves on his way and sent them back to the lady with a poem.
I send you this to show
that though it may still be spring,
the leaves have taken on
an autumn red
deep as my love for you.
She timed her answer to arrive after he had returned to the capital.
Your love has faded as quickly
as autumn colours change.
Where you live,
is there no such thing
as spring?
*******
nu.mai.pot. plutesc pe nori de poezie. camera mea e poezie. peretii sunt poezie. aerul de-l respir, e poezie. citind acest volum, totul pare imbuibat in poezie, si totul devine Poezie…
