Nightingale branches of mountain ash
& nbsp;cut the surface of the sky.
& nbsp; the Gentle look of the misty picture
& nbsp; will Kiss hands again.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; and shoot at the temples of the moon shot,
Burning brow and eyes...
Overflowing with blood dawn,
will the wind whisper -
me
Need,
as the air,
as the breath of life -
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; water...
until the last day,
to feasts...
I don't need any other heat,
only to the heart would fall
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; close...
on the porch come out a flock of autumn
yellow, red withered leaves...
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; and touch the edge
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; lunar
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; drive
Kiss the fire brush...
will the autumn leaves Arrive
in the tenderness of the light of the silvery moon?..