After a thousand winds and rains
After fully enjoying the sun caresses
The leaves of the shallots are also cooked in time
At the head of the river on the banks of the willows
In the valley where there is no echo, mountain stream
Under the clouds and light wind
So many leaves are floating and falling
Gently no one is aware
In the old streets with green tiles and white walls, the ancient alleys
In the long Buddhist temple of Sanskrit
On the way home from the bright moon
In the darkness of the night when no one is there
So many leaves silently drifting down haphazardly
unconsciously
Some time has passed
A season is over
And those fallen leaves
Each piece carries a short period of time
Follow the past that we can't see
Disappear to the edge of the curved sky
2021--11--04