Bamboo, or Something Else, That I Cannot Remember Now
Bamboo, or Something Else, That I Cannot Remember Now
September - time for us to depart
As the soft touch of autumn
Validates all fallingYou will stand next to a camellia
Out of sight
Out of days
Of our life-drinking
In the darkIt is early July.
The shovel of Time already in front of us
We look into each other
Into the vista
Of memory
That will, or may, be
Prolonged by Absence
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