October
Is it winter again? Cold again?
Didn't Frank just wrestle on the ice,
Didn't he recover from his injury? Haven't the seeds of spring been sown?
Isn't tonight over yet,
melting ice
Aren't there ditches everywhere?
My body
Isn't it saved? Is it unsafe?
Isn't that scar formed? Can't you see it?
Above the wound
Fear and cold,
Didn't they just finish, backyard?
Isn't it raking and sowing—
I remember what the earth looks like, red and sticky.
Line up, seeds are sown,
Didn't the vine climb over the south wall?
I can't hear you.
Because the wind is whistling on the bare ground.
I don't care anymore.
What sound does it make?
When am I silent? When?
Describing sounds is beginning to seem meaningless.
What sounds like doesn't change what it is-
Earth, is the night not over yet?
Isn't it safe to plant it?
Didn't we sow the seeds,
Aren't we necessary for the earth,
Grapes, have you harvested?
Summer after summer has passed,
Comfort after violence:
Be nice to me now.
This is not good for me;
Violence has changed me.
Dawn. The mountains sparkled.
Ochre and fire, even the fields are shining.
I know what I see; The sun, that could be
The sun is back in August.
Everything that was taken—
Do you hear the sound? This is my inner voice;
Now you can't touch my body.
It changed once, became stiff,
Don't ask it to respond again.
Like summer.
Surprisingly quiet. The long shade of maple trees
The gravel road is almost purple.
In the evening, the weather is very warm. Like a summer night.
This is not good for me; Violence has changed me.
My body has become cold, like cleaning a clearing;
At this moment, only my mind, caution and vigilance,
Feelings are being tested.
The sun rises again, just like summer;
After the violence, be generous and comfort.
Comfortable, after the leaves have changed, in the field.
After harvesting and farming.
Tell me this is the future,
I won't believe you.
Tell me I'm alive,
I won't believe you.