Tuesday, 4 August 2015

poetic fragments op.40

Burning rabbit

The breeze of summer
Has colours.
Ear of wind, blue
Feet of wind, yellow
Breast of wind, navy
When my daughter was in elementary school,
She showed me her painting
Of a rabbit painted red all over.
“Why red?” I asked her.
She said, “ he always eats only carrots.”
The square and box-shaped rabbit is
Somewhat funny,
Somewhat sad.
And finally,
Death ashes came down on the city.
My wife and daughter
Left home.
The rabbit was fiercely burning in all red.
I know
The breeze to the rabbit.
That is uncountable burning wind of sunset
Which is born with uncountable leaves
Of summer zelkova trees.

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