The sun is autumn calm
as though in mourning;
behind the slender cypress trees
behind the white wall of the graveyard. –



The grass all red in the sun. –
Do you wear the clogs of dogma?
A bicycle abandoned on an autumn road.
You ride through a dying landscape.



A staid man walks the field,
he is as cold as autumn,
he is as sad as autumn.
Faith in humanity.
To me it is a sacred thought.
A speechless silence is like sorrow.
I am no longer sad
for I do not think of myself.